


Before You I Was Lost

by fandomtrash2611



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: AU, Army, BAMF John Watson, Baker street boys, Betrayal, Break Up, Caring, Depression, Doctor John Watson, Drug Use, Episode: s01e01 A Study in Pink, Happy 10th anniversary, Happy Anniversary, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Not Beta Read, Post-War, Rehab, Sad, Slow Burn, Study in Pink, Suicidal Thoughts, Therapy, WIP, War, Worried Mycroft Holmes, angsty, before Sherlock, character developement, in therapy, our boys are so lost, pls be patient, relationship, therapy sessions, work in progresss
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:01:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 35,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25490572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandomtrash2611/pseuds/fandomtrash2611
Summary: "Who'd want me for a flatmate?"Stamford laughed. "You're the second person to say this to me today."With this iconic line we were introduced into the story of John Watson and Sherlock Holmes in "A Study in Pink" 10 Years ago today. Happy Anniversary!But what was before that? How did Sherlock and John cope before they met?
Relationships: James Sholto/John Watson, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 36
Kudos: 22





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Happy 10th Anniversary to 'A Study In Pink'! 
> 
> In honor of the anniversary I thought it would be time to post this idea of mine I had years ago. I started writing it in German so please bare with me when I don't update this quick bc I've to translate it and continue writing it. 
> 
> But I still hope you guys will enjoy this story and the ships I haven't written above yet ;) 
> 
> Happy reading my dears! 
> 
> love, Y.

_ Afghanistan _

“Watson!” John looked up and saw a young soldier running towards him. “We’ll get some boys in. Some landmines.”

John  closed his notebook that was also like a  diary for him and  followed the man outside and  to the hospital tent . 

“Alright boys, we’ll get some new one’s in a few minutes!”, he shouted so all his colleagues could hear him. “Some landmines. You know what to do folks. No stress for the patients and don’t discuss your diagnoses in front of them! Try not to use too much of the medicine and stuff, we don’t know when we’ll get a new shipment.”

His men ran around and quickly prepared anything for the patients to come. John disinfected his hands and slipped into some scrubs, gloves and waited. Silent and nervous his men waited with him in front of the tent. 15 minutes later, a helicopter landed and some cars brought the injured soldiers. John and his men hurried towards them and started with their work. John headed to the helicopter where he knew the heavy injured men where brought in.

“What have we got?”, he shouted over the noise of the helicopter.

“Name’s Jason. A mine exploded directly beside him. His eardrums are ruptured on both sides. He got the splinters of the mine under his skin and the biggest piece is in his heart. First degree burnings on face and hands. His pulse is weak, heart rate 95 to 60.”

Watson was running beside the litter  while his men got him to the medical tent.

“We have to operate immediately! Jason? Jason, can you hear me?”

The soldier nodded and took his hand. They got him into the separated part of the tent that was the operating room. Watson looked at his men and how they handled the situation. All seemed to be fine so he looked back at the injured soldier on his table. He wanted to grab some new gloves when Jason once more took his hand.

“No... Please don’t leave”, he mumbled in pain when he saw that the doctor wanted to leave him. 

“Sch... It’s all going to be fine. I’m just changing and then I’m with you in a second and we’ll take care of your injuries”, he tried to conciliate the young soldier.

He let go of John’s hand who gave the orders so they could start with the operation. 

“Start with the anaesthesia. We have to get rid of that splitter. His  pulse is weak and his vital signs are very bad so hurry up boys!” With a slight smile – he knew it wouldn’t do any good to make the patient nervous – he stepped back to the young soldier. “Jason, we will give you an anaesthetic now, then we’ll retrieve the splitter and when you wake up, all will be fine again and you’ll soon be back to your old self.”

Jason nodded and John once more  squeezed his hand softly to  reassure him that all would be fine before he and some colleagues started with their work. The operation was complicated and they needed longer than anticipated. There also were a few moments when John thought that they would lose the wounded soldier, but four hours later they finally finished the operation. 

If he makes it through tonight, he’ll be fine, John thought pleased while scrubbing his hands. His colleagues stepped by his side and told him about their results and the other patients. They haven’t lost a single patient today which was a success. He took some patient files and sat by Jason’s bed to look after him before he worked over the files. The soldier woke up a few hours later

“Hey”, said John, quite happy that he had woke up so quick. “How are you feeling?”

“Better, thank you Sir.”

“Good. Get some rest. I’ll be back later to check on you again.”

John got up stiffly and left the medical tent. 

The night was bright and pretty warm. John stopped on the way to his tent, looking up and into the  starry night. He liked to look at the dark sky and watch the stars and  constellations . It reminded him of home and his  grandfather .

“Do you want to spend the whole night here?”, a familiar voice asked a few metres beside him. 

John smiled. A tall man stepped from the shadow of a tent to him. He had blond short hair and dark kind eyes. 

“It calms and distracts me”, John confessed. 

The man stepped closer, standing beside him and taking his hand silently. Together they looked into the dark night and at the sky. 

“You’re right. It’s calming.”

“What are you still doing here anyway?”, John aske after a few  minutes of silence. “I thought you were back on the road for a case?”

“That was the plan. But after the fatal incident today, we decided it would be best to lay low for a while. It’s too risky. “

John was  relived . He didn’t like it when James was out in the field. It made him nervous and twitchy because he was worried. A voice interrupted their togetherness. James let go of John’s hand and turned to the soldier. 

“Major Sholto!”

“What is it?”

“We sighed some hostile group of  soldiers . You’re needed Sir.”

“I’ll be there in two minutes.”

The soldier nodded and quickly vanished again. Sholto looked at John.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can”, he promised.

“Be careful”, John said worried. 

“Always”, he grinned and winked at John. 

James wanted to leave but turned around once more and stepped closer again. He pulled the doctor closer, leaned down and kissed him unexpectedly. Both of them smiled when James finally let go of him and vanished into the dark. John then headed to his tent and started working on the files before he fell into a restless and short nap. Every hour he got up and looked for the patients and for Jason  whose condition stayed stable.

At 6 o’clock in the morning one of his colleagues took over to look at the patients and John decided to go jogging like he did every morning. A few miles and two hours later he returned and went to the cooking tent where he got himself a big breakfast. He was happy about the routine they had on some days. On these days, like usual, his men joined him when he had his second coup of tea. They talked about the whole situation, the patients, the supplies, the orders. Things that weren’t that necessary where ordered normally; things that were essential would be delivered by a very risky, weekly flight through enemy territory. With this flight, they also got heavily injured soldiers outside. Their meeting often took an hour or longer, so today. John always felt exhausted and depressed after this because he knew no matter what they did, it wouldn’t be enough. Usually he compensated it with a nice cup of tea in James’ company. But since he was on a case, he shoved the thought away and decided to head to the patients again and start with his work. He was grateful that he had decided to do this since one of his patients felt worse due to some heavy inflammation. John stepped to the injured soldier and looked at his file. The young man was wounded during an assignment last week. A burning house had buried him and two of his comrades had gotten him out. 

“Doctor Watson...”, he mumbled. “I can barely breath”, he gasped.

“I know. Here.” John got him an oxygen mask. “Try breathing with this if it gets worse. It should make it easier.”

The wounded soldier nodded and immediately felt a bit better. John made a note in the file and looked for the other patients. He worked till late that night and returned tired and exhausted to his tent. He startled when he found James in it. Major Sholto stood up and hugged him before he kissed him deeply. 

“Since when are you back?”, Joh  wanted to know, still in his arms. 

“I returned about an hour ago.”

James let his hands slip down to John’s waistband and pulled his shirt out of it while he buried his head at John’s neck and wandered with soft kisses up and down. 

“James,  what...? ”

“Gosh, I want you. I want you since yesterday night”, Sholto grumble while he mechanically slipped John’s shirt over his body. 

John nodded and fumbled at his belt. A few minutes later both of them sank naked on the small and tiny bed. Under James’ hands he shortly was a moaning piece of hormones and not the doctor who led all those men and who saved lives.  Usually it was John who had the control in his relationships, but with James it was a bit of a power play between them and sometimes he gave control away. So tonight. After some playful scramble, Sholto shoved him into the  mattress . His right hands held John’s wrists above his head together, while his other hand wandered between his legs. John let out a moan but James tried to silence him with a quick kiss. 

“Sch... You shouldn’t be that loud. Or do you want everyone talking about us tomorrow?”, James mumbled into his ear.

“No”, John moaned more quietly now. 

James laughed and wandered with soft and playful kisses over his breast while he still held John’s erection in his hand. John was overwhelmed by his feelings. Only at the edge of his foggy mind, he realised how James carefully prepared him, put on a condom and buried himself inside him. He leaned forward and buried his face in James's neck, trying not to be too loud.

“Oh god!”, he mumbled when the other soldier moved his hips and hand.

Over and over he leaned down and kissed him to muffle the doctor’s moans. It didn’t take them long until both climaxed together. 

Panting both lay in  each other's arms when John started laughing. Irritated James stood up and got rid of the condom.

“What is it?”, he then asked.

“People will talk about us tomorrow I guess”, John still laughed.

James then laughed as well.

“Probably. We were both a bit loud to be honest.”

John grabbed his dirty t-shirt and cleaned himself up before he pulled James closer again to kiss him. Sholto put a blanket over him, sat beside him again and pulled him into his arms. Only now John realised how tired he truly was and how late it had gotten. He had to get up in a few hours.  Yawning he rested against James’ chest. The older men shoved a curl out of his head and kissed his temple. 

“How are the boys who got in yesterday? The  incident with the  mines, right?”

“Yes”, John answered tiredly. “They are as good as someone would expect. All survived, even the boy with the splinter in his heart. But they all need time to heal. No one will be up to serve anytime soon.”

James grumbled and moved a bit uncomfortable.

“Gosh, I’ll never get used to these beds”, he grumbled angrily and John laughed again. “I should go”, he then said after a while. 

“Please, stay”, John said sleepy. 

“Alright. I’ll stay.”

John smiled, already half asleep and a few minutes later he had completely drifted off. 


	2. Chapter 2

“Doctor Watson! Doctor Watson!”

John awoke with a start and looked around confused. 

“Yes? What is it?”

“A new patient. He got shot. You have to come immediately.”

“Coming”, John mumbled sleepy and looked around for a moment. James was gone. John grabbed his trousers, a new t-shirt and ran to the hospital tent. 

“What have we got?”, he asked and slipped into some gloves and some scrubs.

“He got shot. Pulse and blood pressure are alright. He lost a lot of blood though. The bullet has entered through his abdomen and probably injured an organ. She’s still inside.

“Okay. We’ve to operate immediately.”

A few minutes later everything was prepared and the man lay on John’s table. He was exhausted from the lack of sleep. 

“Get me a strong black coffee”, he ordered and started with the operation. 

Half an hour later he just stopped to drown the cup of coffee before he continued and operate for the next hours. 

“Bloody hell!”, John swore when he was finished and slipped out of the gloves and bloody scrubs.

The man had died. The damage to his liver had been reversible and so had been the wound itself. But then the man’s heart suddenly stopped and they couldn’t do anything to reanimate him. They had tried over an hour but it wouldn’t do any good. Angry John left the tent and immediately headed for a jog. He ran as fast as he could. Ran to forget. Out of breath he finally stopped and looked down on a small village. John sank down on his knees and started crying. He was exhausted ad sad. They did what they could but neither he nor his men managed to safe everyone who came in and so they lost more good men than they could get here to fight this stupid and unnecessary war. Sometimes John was asking himself why they were even here, fighting for a thing that was not the slightest right. After a while he stood up and made his way back. After a long shower, he immediately got to his tent and lay down. 

“John. John.”

A hand was softly stroking through his hair and a familiar voice kept saying  his name . He grumbled and turned to the voice.

“John, wake up.”

“What?”, he grumbled annoyed now.

“Please wake up”, the voice said, now a bit amused by his annoyance.

A hand softly  stroke through his hair and a familiar voice continued to softly mumble his name. John grumbled and then turned around to the voice.

“John, wake up.”

“What?”, he mumbled sleepily and a bit annoyed by getting woke up in the first place.

“Please wake up”, the voice said softly and with something like amusement in it.

Carefully he opened his eyes and saw James smiling and looking down at him, sitting by his side, hand still in his hair.

“Is it a patient?”, he asked in a rough and sleepy voice.

“No. Here, drink”, James said and handed him a bottle of water. 

John sat up, took it from him and drank thirstily.

“Thanks”, he mumbled afterwards. “How late is it? I must’ve slept quite long.”

“Yeah, you can say that”, James laughed. “Nearly a whole day.”

“Nearly a whole day?”

“Yes. But don’t worry, nothing happened in that time. No one was injured, all patients are fine. Besides, you needed some rest. You look very well rested.”

John nodded and took another sip of water. He felt better as well.

“What time is it?”

“Midday.” John wanted to get up, but James took his hand and held him back. “Where are you going?

“I wanted to get dressed and start work.”

“Please, stay”, Sholto said softly.

John nodded and stayed beside him. This time, James pulled him closer into his arms and kissed the other man  passionately , long and also soft.

“Hm... What was that for?”, John asked smiling like an idiot after their lips stopped touching after a while. 

“Just because I wanted to.”

“Hmm”, John hummed happily when their lips met again. “I like that.”

This time it was John who took control and soon had pushed Sholto down and was over him. They continued kissing. Slowly, sensual. But soon and to his surprise, James turned them over again, pressed him into the mattress, hands held beside John’s head. 

“Wait”, he breathed heavily. “We need to talk.”

James let go of him and John could hear the sadness in his voice and was alarmed immediately. He took his hand and rested it on Sholto’s cheek before he asked what had happened.

“We have an  assignment . I don’t know how long it’s going to take and when I’ll be back. I thought you should know.”

“Okay.”

“John, I...”, he started when another voice interrupted them once more.

Not one moment alone, John shouted in his head.

“Major Shotlo!”, a voice shouted outside the tent. “Major Sholto!”

“What is it?”

“We got to go Sir. The men are waiting.”

“One minute”, he answered, sighed and then turned back to John. “John, I...” He hesitated. “I  gotta go.”

John kissed him again before James let  go and hurried outside, leaving him alone once more. 

After a while, he dressed and headed to his men who greeted him after entering the hospital tent. One of the men got him a huge cup of coffee before he started his day like usual and looked after the patients. 

It was evening when he decided to head to jog because he knew he’d feel better afterwards. It was late when he returned to the camp and grabbed some food. Only now John realised how hungry he was and he tried not to eat greedily. 

_ London _

It was late and rained but he didn’t care. He held his head down while he walked through the dark side alleys. Hands buried in his pockets of his leather jacket, he headed purposeful to a club at the end of the road. Without problems they let in where he immediately headed to the bar and ordered a drink while watching the crowd. A few moments later he found the one he was looking for. Drowning his drink, he made his way through the crowd and headed to the man who wasn’t even ten years older, leaned over to him and whispered something in his ear. The man looked at him and then nodded before he shoved him a tiny bag with a white powder into his trouser pockets while the young man shoved some pounds into his hand. After a short greeting, their ways parted again and he headed back to the bar. His gaze lingered on the crowd of different people. Gosh they were all so ordinary and boring. After a second drink he vanished to the toilettes, making sure he was alone, he locked himself into a cubicle. He always felt some sort of excitement before doing it. His hands started shaking slightly while he grabbed the needles from his pockets. Not five minutes later he sat on the dirty floor, needle ready, injecting the heroine directly into his vein. Immediately he felt the familiar rush and his thoughts calmed down. The information crashing down on him was bearable when he headed back to the bar a moment later. He felt dizzy and free. After another drink an elderly man stepped to him, leaned closer and asked if he wanted another drink. Truth be told, he knew that the man only looked for sex. He whispered something into the man’s ear and he laughed, guiding him outside while holding his hand in his. They headed to a dark side alley where the man had parked a black, ordinary car. The man wore a dark suite. Banker, he deduced in his foggy mind. Married but his wife knew nothing from his cravings for men. He probably told her he had a business meeting and the visits to the clubs were meetings with his colleagues. Without hesitation they got into the backseat of the car and the man shoved him down, immediately kissing and touching him when the door was closed. He allowed it while the bankers hands travelled over his body, opening the buttons of his shirt, shoving his hands down his trousers, getting pressed down on the backseat half naked. The man’s kisses were urgent and rough. His mind was foggy and away while the two men gave into the urge to have physical contract. Half-naked, skin rubbing against skin, fabrics getting half ripped away, belts unbuckled. The sound of a condom package opening then the feel of being torn apart. He moaned, half in pain, half in lust.

“Okay?”, the banker asked over him and he nodded.

Then he continued without asking further questions or how he was. Kisses being exchanged, quick, hungry. Cold hands on hot skin. Moving together. Cold leather under him, shivering and yet everything was quite far away. The windows fogged and the only noise was their moaning and gasping before both climaxed. The stranger rested on his chest for a moment, out of breath, smiling. It wasn’t long before he shoved the banker a way, getting dressed again and cleaned up as good as he could.

“That was nice”, the older man said. “I hope we can do it again some time?”

He only nodded before he climbed out of the car and made his way home. Like usual he didn’t get a cab and arrived two hours later at his flat. He was tired and exhausted. Mentally as physically. He craved his bed but first he would need a shower. Get rid of the dirt, the memories. After unlocking the front door, he silently made his way upstairs to his flat. While heading to the bathroom, he got rid of his clothes and let them slide to the ground while moving. A moment later the hot water ran over his body and soothed him and his aching body. Afterwards only dressed in a towel, he headed to the kitchen where he grabbed some water and drank thirstily. There were lots of boxes still unpacked since he had moved here a few weeks ago. He didn’t care. On his way to the bedroom, he grabbed his trousers with his needles and the heroin, put both into the drawer of his nightstand. Once more the jeans  was tossed on the ground, before the towel joined the mess on the floor and he sank naked between the silken and cool sheets of his huge bed.

Early the next morning he got woken up by his ringing mobile phone. It was his brother, but he ignored the call and then texts and fell asleep once more. It was late in the evening when he woke up and started his usual routine. He  shoot up, dressed and headed out to another club. Like the night before, he drank, got high again and found someone for the night he vanished with. They had sex, completely anonym and then he made his way back home. 


	3. Chapter 3

_ Afghanistan _

John was in the hospital tent, working on some patient files and looking for some newly wounded soldiers when his men got another injured soldier inside. John  quickly grabbed some gloves and stepped to them.

“What have we got?”, he asked in his usual calm  demeanour . 

The man had high degree burns on his left side, a lot of cuts and bullet wounds. His pulse was weak, slowed aspiration and he was dizzy.

“They found him in Sholto’s corps. All were dead, except him. They were moving right into a trap.”

“Who is he?”, John asked and once more looked at the man on the gurney.

“We don’t know. His clothes and face  is too burned and his dog tags are missing.”

Just in this moment, the man  opened his eyes and saw right into John’s while looking for his hand frantically.

“John”, he moaned. “It hurts. Please... Make it stop.”

He knew the eyes and his voice. It was James.

“It’s Sholto!”, he shouted to his men. “Come on, come on! Let’s get him into surgery. It’s going to be fine”, he said softly to his friend to calm him down while they got him into surgery. “10mg of morphine and get me a monitor!”

John tried to stay calm. He had to have a clear head while doing this. Carefully he looked at the Major’s wounds. Most of them weren’t as bad as he had first thought. The worst were the wounds on his left arm. The muscles where ripped or heavily injured and John wasn’t sure if he could fix it so James could use his arm like before. He told him what he feared.

“Try to cobble me up as good as possible. I know you can do it John”, he said in a harsh and breathless voice.

Watson nodded and began his work. He cleaned the wounds, retrieved some bullets and tried his best. A colleague offered his help but John did want to be sure that James would get the best medical attention they could offer him and that was only the case if he would do it himself. 

“James, we have to operate. If I don’t do it, chances are high you can never use your arm again or will lose it. Maybe with this we can save it.”

James nodded in agreement and they got an  anaesthesia to put him to sleep before John started his work. 

It took him hours until he was finished and had gotten James to the ICU part of their tent to watch over him. John was completely exhausted. Not only due to the long operation, but mentally. He had feared he would lose him and he wasn’t sure that he could cope with it. Yet he stayed by James’ side until he woke up. A relieved smile spread across the doctor’s face when James looked at him still a bit dizzy from the narcosis. John stood up and immediately started with the post-op-exam.

“Squeeze my hand”, he finally said while he held Sholto’s left hand in his.

James obeyed and tried but it wouldn’t work.

“What does it mean?”, the injured man asked worried.

“Nothing. Could simply because of the operation and because you’re still weak. But you still have to be prepared for the worst. Your injuries are very severe. Your muscles partly ripped due to the bullet wounds and the cuts. There’s a high possibility that you might never can move your arm.” James closed his eyes for a moment and swallowed the lump in his throat. “James, I tried everything I could. I’m so sorry, I...”

“Please”, he interrupted John. “Leave me alone.”

“James....”

“I said, leave me alone!”

John accepted even though he was hurt by his reaction and left him alone. He wanted to be alone as well so he headed to this tent, ordering his men to call him immediately if James would get worse.

Late that night, when he was sure that Sholto would be asleep, he returned and looked at his vitals and wounds once more. They had to get him home as soon as possible. Only like this he would get the treatment he needed to recover. He could do nothing more than he had done already. John made his way to his superior and talked to him about Major Sholto’s medical condition and that he would be best cared for at home. The man agreed and ordered everything to fly him and some other wounded soldiers out and home. John thanked him and headed back to the medical tent. He looked after the other patients before he kept watching James from the other end of the tent. He was relieved that he looked a bit better than a few hours ago and his vitals stayed stable. With a cup of tea, he sat down and kept watching him the whole night.

_ London _

Like all the other nights before, the young man was in one of the bars he knew, high and drinking, looking for an easy shag. While he was in his thoughts about who he would choose, an arm grabbed him and turned him around. He knew the man that had grabbed him and now violently dragged him to the exit and into a car.

“You’re lucky that I found you in time. We were just about to raid this place for drugs.” The young man looked uninterested out of the car window while the older man drove off. “What did you take?”, he asked him while quickly looking over to him. “What’s wrong? Why are you doing all this to yourself?” 

He continued to stay silent until they arrived at his place. He quickly got out and with a sign and last look, the older one drove off again, leaving him alone. Fuck, he thought and headed upstairs to his flat.

“Evening brother-dear", he heard a voice from the living room when he entered, switching on the lights.

In one of the two armchairs sat a tall red-headed man in a tailored three-piece-suit. An umbrella leaned by the armchair and his suit was grey.

“What are you doing here?” 

“Looking after you. You  should be thankful that the DI found you in time and got you out.”

Annoyed by the other men’s presence he grabbed the pack of cigarettes from his pockets and lit one up. His brother stood up and stepped closer. Intimidating, controlled.

“You have to stop. You can’t go on like this!”

“What do you care if I continue like this or not? You never cared about me or were interested in how I live my life. Not even when we were still children”, he spat angrily.

He could see how he had hurt his brother who stepped a bit back again. Angrily and hurt they both looked at each other for a moment.

“I always wanted the best for you. But if you deny my help now that it’s not  too late, I can’t help you anymore.”

The red-head turned around, grabbed his things and left the flat. The young man was angry and paced the floor while he smoked a second cigarette. His mind raced, the earlier calmness in his mind was gone and he felt a familiar rage in his stomach. Without thinking  clearly, he left the flat again and wandered through the night. After a while he stopped in front of a small bar near Canary Warf and entered without hesitation. He wanted to finish what he had started earlier tonight. 

_ Afghanistan _

For hours John sat on his small cot and thought about James and what had happened the last days between them and why he had refused to let him be there in the first place. He had tried over and over again to talk to James and take care of him but he wouldn’t let him and shoved him away every time he tried. Today would be the day they would get James home to London and John wanted to sort everything between them before he would leave. It was important for him that they would separate not in anger but in friendship if this was what James wanted after all. Or only if they would see each other again in a few weeks when he was able to go home. Tired he made his way to the hospital tent. Luckily there were only a few patients left so they had some more privacy. He looked after the soldier with the smoke poisoning and after Jason before he finally made up his mind, shoved everything away and stepped to Sholto. James was sleeping but since John had no idea how much time they had left before the  helicopter would start, he decided to wake him.

“James. James, wake up”, he softly said and rested a hand on his healthy arm for a  moment .

Only slowly he woke up. Silent James then saw him into his eyes. John found this whole situation between them strange and had no idea what to say since there were so many  things he wanted to discuss. 

“When can I go back?”, Sholto finally asked, breaking the silence.

“James, that...” He cleared his throat. “You’ll go back today. They’ll fly you home and get you to one of the best hospitals to take care of you there.”

“Why?”

“I want the best for you and I can’t give it to you here.” James nodded and John looked at his hands for a moment before he continued. “I don’t know when we’ll see each other again so I wanted to say goodbye properly. As soon as I can go home, I’ll visit. I promise.”

James wanted to say something when another soldier stepped in and interrupted them.

“Doctor Watson, we have to get the patients ready. The helicopter landed and they have to go again very soon. We don’t have much time.”

“Alright. I’ll be there in a moment.”

He looked at James again, who looked away and avoided his look. Without another word, John left him to not make this harder than it already was for them. 

The next days, John tried not to think how his good-bye from James had turned out. He upbraids himself for letting him go like this, even though he knew it wasn’t his mistake. He ignored his thoughts and immerse himself into work and separated himself more and more from everyone. When he didn’t work, he jogged. When they had dinner, he often showed up too early or too late to be alone. If he met his comrades, he often sat alone.

Late in the evening, two weeks after James had gone home – his superior entered John’s tent. Immediately he got up and greeted him formally.

“Good evening Sir.”

“Doctor Watson, good to finally see you. It’s been quite difficult to reach you in a public place during the last two weeks. You seemed to seclude yourself. We’re very worried, since this isn’t your usual behaviour.”

John knew that his comrades must have talked to his superior since their trying to get him back to normal had failed. He didn’t care. John cleared his throat.

“People change”, he said simply.

“Concentrate on the important, Watson. On the life you live here”, his superior advised him. “It won’t help you if you only think of the people who are at home. Live a life far from here. Concentrate on the here and now!”

John nodded and his superior left him alone. This was what he wanted after all. Be alone. He needed time. 

_ London _

For weeks he staggered from one delirium into the next. When he didn’t solve a case, he was out on the road, looking for sex. If he wasn’t out, he slept. The whole week his brother called and reminded him about dinner with their parents on the weekend. Over and over he told his brother that he wouldn’t come. It made him furious, that his brother tried to interfere with his life. A few days before the dinner, he didn’t even bother to answer the phone. But his brother didn’t care and showed up – like he had threatened before – on his doorstep to collect him for dinner on Saturday  evening .

“Hello brother dear”, he greeted coolly and sat in an armchair.

His landlady had probably let him in. Tired and high he lay on the sofa and tried to ignore him. He felt his brother’s scrutinizing look and got up swearing to head to the bathroom. After a hot shower he seemed to get clearer, his mind not this foggy and drugged anymore. He did his best to look representable for Mummy and Dad which wasn’t an easy task in his current condition. He was pale, had dark circles under his eyes and was thinner than usual. Some ribs were clearly visible and he had some bruises from where the stranger had held him quite brutally last night. He ignored the thoughts about last night and slipped into a white shirt and a black simple suit. His dark curls where a mess like usual but he knew that Mummy liked his hair like this. Not half an hour later he stepped outside and presented himself to his brother. He looked over him, scrutinizing every inch of his body before he nodded and they left the flat silently. In front of the house, there was a black Jaguar waiting that would bring them to their house of their parents.

It was a small typical Cottage where they had lived a calm and lovely childhood. Now he felt as if all happy memories remained to a different life, a different person. The car stopped and the two brothers got out.

“Please, do it for our mother”, his brother reminded him when they stood in front of a dark wooden door and he knocked.

A moment later it opened and their mother stood in front of them.

“There you are!”, she said happily and hugged both of them before she pulled them into the house.

She guided their sons into the living room where their father sat with a glass of punch in his favourite armchair, a nice warm fire in the fireplace beside him. Careful, due to his rheumatism which was very bad in this wet and cold weather – he stood up and hugged his boys before they sat at the comfortable sofa opposite him. Their mother got them a drink and the small-talk started. His brother talked about his job at the government and they talked about politics while he sat silent beside them and clutched his glass tighter. 

_ Afghanistan _

Excited John packed his bag. He was allowed to go home for a week to visit his family and friends. Obviously, James as well. His flight would leave in an hour but before that, he wanted to check on the patients once more. He shoved his diary in his bag and then made his way to the hospital tent. Two soldiers were his only patients and he was happy that it was a very calm time. One was shot in the upper  leg, the other had been beaten up by some civilians. Both looked better and he was sure they could leave soon. He was late after examining the two soldiers and there were only a few minutes left until he would leave with some of the boys for England. 


	4. Chapter 4

_ London, two days later,  _ _ Saturday _

John hesitated to ring the bell. It’s been nearly half an hour since he had arrived at James’ house, but instead of ringing the doorbell, he waited. He was looking forward to see him but also had a bad feeling about this. James had been very distanced and cool when they had said their goodbyes and he knew that he barely changed his opinion if he didn’t want to. But still he was here. Standing in the cold London rain, looking at the dark wood of the front door. It took some more minutes until he found the courage to finally ring the bell. A moment later the door opened.

“Hello James.”

James looked at him surprised.

“What are you doing here?”, he asked harsh.

“I’m on home leave. I wanted to see you and wondered how you are.”

“As good as can be expected under the circumstances. I don’t want to talk about it. I’m about to expect someone.”

“Oh... Then I don’t want to keep you any longer.”

He scrutinized James for a moment. His left half of his face was burned and scared, so his left arm. He also held it weirdly. Apparently, John had failed to repair the damage and to reconstruct the ligaments and tendons. It hurt him to see James like this.

“I’m sorry”, he once more said, turned around and walked away through the pouring rain.

John sat in a small dark bar and sipped on his beer that was way too warm. He had imagined this evening differently, but he wasn’t surprised at how it had turned out. He knew he should leave James alone but it was hard for him. Deep in his thoughts he looked over the crowd. He stopped when his eyes found a tall man with dark curls, sharp cheekbones and a long coat. The man looked around and crossed the room quickly to vanish through a small door at the end of the bar. John only thought about him a few moments, before he emptied his beer and left the bar. Tired and hurt from today’s visit, he headed to the small B&B he had a room in and slipped under the cool covers of his bed nearly immediately. 

Late the next morning he got up, ignoring the breakfast he was offered from the old lady and immediately headed to the house of his parents in one of the suburbs. After his parents had died, Harry had returned and had moved in. With Clara. John never had a problem, that Harry was with Clara and they even got married. His parents, mostly his mother, had never liked it instead and that was the reason he had hid his sexual orientation towards his parents all those years. He was looking forward to this visit, even though he and Harry had a weird relationship. John opened the small garden gate and was by the front door with a few steps. He rang the bell and nearly immediately it was opened by Clara who greeted him happily and hugged him.

Dinner at his parents wasn’t easy. Luckily, he was mostly ignored because his parents seemed to be fascinated by his brother and his dealing in British politics and government affairs. But sometimes he had his parent's full attention. For example, when his mother wanted to know what he was doing, if he still wanted to be a detective. In default of a better lie, he told her to wait for more cases. She had no idea how bad he truly was. His brother and he tried to keep their problems away from their parents. Later than he had expected, their mother finally let them leave. Only because his brother had an important  appointment in the House of Commons. In the car, the driver just got them back to the city, his brother thanked him.

“Thanks for coming  today . Both, but mostly our mother, were quite happy to see you.”

He stayed silent until they arrived at his flat.

“This was the last time I’m doing you a favour”, he said angry  and stepped out.

“We’ll see about that”, his brother mumbled before he shut the door and the driver got him to his  appointment .

Still grumpy how his day had turned out, he waited until his brother’s car was past the next corner of the road, before he made his way to Scotland Yard. The DI had texted him that he needed him for a case. Until late that night, they made their way through some pubs, bars and clubs to hunt down a wanted murderer. It was in a dark and dingy bar when he was completely distracted from his usual needs that were cases or drugs these days: blue, curious and sad eyes.

The eyes had looked at him interesting. They belonged to a man. A soldier. But before he could find out more, he saw their suspect from the corner of his eye and followed him. Within the next half hour, he had tackled him down and the DI was getting him into a car while he made his way back to the pub to look for those blue eyes. But the man was gone. He asked the owner if he knew him, but he wasn’t helpful. During the next days, he returned and hoped that the man would come back but he didn’t. For a moment he was tempted to ask his brother for help, before he changed his mind. He would never help him with this after what he had said after their parent’s dinner. And even if he would help him, he would only ask what he wanted from the man and would make more useless inquiries. He would keep interfering in his life and he didn’t want that. Instead he dreamed of those blue eyes every night, solved cases and got more and more consumed by heroin. 

_ London, Heathrow _

John sat smiling on one of the grey plastic chairs in one of the airport terminals. He held the short letter James had wrote him in his hand and once more read it. 

_ I’m truly sorry if I hurt you, but I still need time. Please be patient and then let’s try again. When you return, we can start new together and can talk about everything. J.S. _

He was happy that James had contacted him before his journey back. He was happy that somehow all would be good again. John had hope for them and their future. His flight was announced and he took his things and made his way back. Compared to most of his comrades he didn’t have a problem with going back into the East where people needed help and there was a constant war going on. He was sad to see all this terror and pain, but he was also happy that he and his men could help the civilians to get better and to protect them. He was happy that he had decided to become a doctor. Even as a little boy he had wanted to help and so he had decided to follow the path of his granddad. But instead of opening an office and have a calm life, he had signed up for the Army. The adventure and dangers had lured him in.

_ Afghanistan _

“It’s so good to have you back!”,  one of his comrades greeted him when he entered their camp.

“ Thanks ”, he  mumbled and  got to his tent .

Everyone was happy to have him back, happier and more normal than before his leave. He got his bag into his tent and then headed to his superior to tell him he was back for duty.

“Good to have you back Watson. There was a lot going on while you were away but I’m sure your men will tell you. You look better than before you left. I hope you sorted everything at home?”

He looked scrutinizing and knowing at him. John only nodded. 

“Good, then you can be fully back I hope.”

Once more John nodded and was dismissed a moment later. He stepped back into the warm night air and looked around. Everything seemed to be like it was when he had left for home. Yet he knew from his superior that things had changed. He knew where to get the information he wanted and made his way to the kitchen tent. He was greeted happily once more and then looked for the chef. Quietly the other man filled him in with the current news.

There had been more incidents between the civilians and the rebels the soldiers couldn’t deal with. One had escalated and some men had been injured. Some of them even had died from their injuries. John immediately felt responsible and reproached himself for not being here. He was sure he would have manged to save them. The other man saw the guilt in his eyes.

“Don’t. No one could have saved them. Not even you Sir.”

The reassurance of the chef didn’t make things better. He felt responsible for the death of his friends and comrades. Instead of being here he had been on vacation, had drunk, met his family and had tried to fixed his love life. Without another word he left the tent and headed to his. Tired and angry with himself, he slumped onto the small bed and let an arm slide over his eyes to block everything out. He had no idea what had happened, but back then he wouldn’t have made such a mistake. Shoving all thoughts away, he stood up after a while and headed to the hospital tent where he gathered some more information and got to work immediately.

The next weeks stayed calm. There were no more encroachments on the civilians, no injured soldiers. But the calm also irritated John and made him nervous. They all knew that it was just the calm before the storm. 

_ London _

It’s been weeks since a decent case. Weeks! Things got boring again, well, more boring than usual for him. The excitement he had felt, wandering through the clubs, looking for someone else to have sex with every night, had been gone. Also, his search for the blue eyes was without result and it depressed him. He didn’t like it to have no result. He didn’t like waiting and that was what was this after all. Wait until the blue eyes would show up through some coincidence again. Once more he was tempted to ask his brother for help, but still the thought made him uneasy. He didn’t want to answer all his questions he would face so he once more decided to search on his own. But like the weeks before he got home frustrated and unsuccessful. The effect of the heroin slowly faded and he decided to meet up with his dealer and get some new heroin. He did send him a text and they met up in one of the many drug houses he knew.

His patience run thin while he waited for the other man. It had started raining, but he didn’t care. He wanted to text his dealer again, when he just arrived. They greeted each other and immediately talked business.

“How much do you want?”

“100  gram ”, the young man said, while the man opposite looked at him surprised.

“Dude, what do you  wanna do? Kill yourself and your lover including all your friends?”

He didn’t answer but just looked impatiently at him. What he wanted to do with this amount of heroin was only his business. Reluctantly the dealer handed him the bag with the white powder, while he handed him four hundred pounds the man took with excitement. He didn’t have a lot of customers who were willing to pay this much money for a bit of junk. Of course, his premium customers knew that they only got high quality heroin and that had his price. Still business wasn’t going too well. Mostly because a certain DI was planning more and more drug busts. 

“See you”, the dealer said and left him alone.

For a moment he looked at the package in his hands, then put it into his pocket and made his way home. This time he wanted to be alone.

_ Afghanistan _

It was over four months now that he had been home. Since then he didn’t hear anything from James. Every week he wrote a letter to his beloved. Every month he had waited for an answer, but none came. Still John didn’t lose hope and continued writing. He hoped that he would receive an answer soon.

“Doctor Watson!”

“Yes?”, he asked but didn’t look up from his letter.

“You got a letter, Sir.”

Now the young soldier had his complete attention. The young man handed him the small envelope. John thanked him and quickly opened it.

_ John, _

_ I’m so sorry I haven’t kept in touch for the last weeks. I had a few things to solve. A lot happened while you were here the last time. Too much actually. I’m still not sure about everything and how things will or should continue. _

_ Your letters always manage to cheer me up and I’m very grateful that you keep me updated. _

_ I also hope you all are well and the situation stays calm. _

_ I’ll write as soon as I can. _

_ James _

John read the letter a few times. Something wasn’t right with him. Usually he never wrote those short letters. He wanted to read the letter again when his superior stepped in. He greeted him and immediately was on his feet.

“How can I help you Sir?”

“We need you on an assignment Doctor Watson.”

“What’s this job about?”, he asked while the both of them stepped into the warm morning air and headed to the hospital tent. 

“Some locals are in the field of fire between two rival rebellious gangs. According to our information there are injured civilians but we’re not sure if we can get them out alive without some first care. Everything’s calm at the moment so we should have some time to get everyone out and provide the necessary help before someone arrives.”

John nodded and mentally started to prepare for the job at hand. He got his guys ready and told them what they had to do. They had half an hour to pack the most necessary things before they were off. His men stacked everything in a truck while John quickly scribbled the letter for James and got it to the post office. They were off a few minutes later.

The way to the small village was long and hard. The sun was high in the sky when they arrived around late afternoon. All was – like his superior had said – calm. Restless John looked around. He was more alert than usual. He had a bad feeling about being here and so he urged his men to hurry.

“Come on guys, we better hurry. Just get the most necessary things done so we can get them out of here. Something’s not right. We  gotta go asap!”, he said quietly to his boys.

“But everything’s calm”, one of the soldiers said.

“Yes. For now. Come on, get to work boys!”

They hurried into the village and helped as good as they could while some soldiers kept an eye out. John stepped outside a house with a little girl on his arm. She cried and he tried to sooth her while he headed back to the truck and ambulance. She had lost her parents due to an explosion and had some burns and a bullet wound at her arm. He talked to her soothingly and asked her to wait for her while he would help other people.

“Matthews!”, he said to another man by the truck. “Have an eye on her. She got no one left.”

“Yes Sir.”

The Doctor returned into another house and helped someone else who was injured when he heard some loud shouting and shooting outside. His men shouted and orders were shouted when he exited the house. Some rebels had shown up and had attacked them. His men hurried to get the people out and to the trucks who drove off quickly. John looked around and quickly hurried to a family who got attacked by two foreign soldiers and were rushed back into their houses while being threatened with some guns. He pulled out his gun and shot one of them who wanted to shoot him. The other man saw and attacked him. The father of the family headed to help him and together they managed to vanquish him. John thanked the man and guided them to the truck who had waited for them. 

“Watson!”

He turned around and looked for the voice. Two of his men waved at him and he made his way to them between bullets flying and shouting. They had found one of his men shot at a house entrance. He was bleeding heavily. John put on some new gloves and looked at his wound. The man was injured at the artery by the neck but he would survive if they managed to get him away from here and into the camp as quick as possible. John slipped out of his shirt and managed to make a  tourniquet .

“We have to get him away from here! Come on!”

Together they got him to the truck when he saw her. The little girl was hiding behind a small stone wall, away from the truck and was crying. Matthews lay beside her, bullet wound to the leg. Watson got down and hurried over to them.

“What happened? I thought you were by the truck?”

“We were, but the little one here ran because she was scared when the shooting started. I wanted to get her back. Ah...”, he moaned when John looked at his wound. “Please get her away from here. I can manage.”

“No, I won’t leave you here. The bullet got through but you’ll manage. Come on.”

John got rid of his belt and secured the artery. The girl continued crying and held Matthew’s hand, clinging to him. Watson helped Matthews up who leaned on him, took the child in his arm and manoeuvred them back to the others as well. His men hurried to him and helped. They had manged to get them halfway back and John hurried behind them when he could feel it. A bullet who pierced his flesh. He screamed out and stumbled. Another shoot and John once more felt the pain before he couldn’t see anything anymore because of some blood and then he fell. His men shouted his name and started shooting back at the rebels while they got closer to collect him. John tried to get up and leaned on his arm but the pain in his left shoulder didn’t let him get up. Blood continuously dripped in his eye and blocked his view so he couldn’t see properly. All around him seemed to get calmer and slower and he had the feeling that suddenly a second were ten seconds until time stopped completely. The voices continued to say his name. Hands grabbed him and pulled him up. The pain got worse, his heart started racing and yet he was calm. The men got him to the truck and carefully got him inside. One of them tried to still his bleeding. The shooting outside continued when they drove off.

“Doctor Watson! Stay awake Sir!”, he heard the voices of his men who tried to take care of him. 

He knew that it was bad but yet his men had to take care of the other patients as well. 

“Take care of everyone!”, he mumbled calm.

“But Sir!”, his men protested.

“That’s an order”, he grumbled and moaned in pain.

“Come on guys, let’s get to work!”, he heard the soldier say before he turned back to Watson. “Sir, please don’t move. You’re losing too much blood way too quickly.”

John knew that a simple bandage wouldn’t help. They had to collect his blood and transfer it back into his body, that would be the only thing that would help.

“Autologous blood donation”, he mumbled weakly.

His men knew immediately what he meant and started with their work. He was lucky that he had trained them this well. Everything around him got calmer again and slower. Tired. He was so tired, but he knew he had to stay awake at all costs. The other soldiers looked worried at the doctor. He had gone pale, was covered in blood and dirt and started to mumble inaudible sentences. It was bad but they tried to do everything that he’d survive and tried to stop the bleeding. The world around him got dark and silent until everything vanished.

John woke up back in the camp. He rested in one of the comfortable beds in the hospital tent. He looked at his body. His chest was bandaged so was his shoulder. John tried to sat up but every movement hurt so he stayed where he was.

“Doctor Watson.” One of his men stepped to him. “How are you Sir?”

“Quite okay”, he lied. “How’s my diagnosis?”

The young soldier explained everything to him and tried to be as professional as possible. He managed very good and John was proud of him. He had a gaze wound at his head and a bullet wound in his left shoulder. Muscles, ligaments and his scapula were wounded. He would have a lot of problems with this, he knew. The reason they would also send him home. Silent he sat in the bed. He couldn’t believe it. Everything he had worked for so hard would end now? He had wanted to be a doctor since he was a little boy. As doctor in the army he has had the possibility to help the people daily. Helping people was his passion, his calling and now he had to give up his dream? No, he wouldn’t let this happen. He knew if he would recover soon, they couldn’t simply send him home.

The next day's his condition got worse and he had a fever and his wound was septic. His superior came to visit him on the second day since his accident and talked to him about how they would go on.

“Doctor Watson...”

John opened his eyes and looked at him. He knew why the other man was here. He tried to sat up but it wouldn’t work. Exhausted and in pain he sank into the soft pillows and looked ashamed away. His  superior scrutinized him for a long time. 

“It’s so good to see that you’re quite well after this incident in the field, Doctor Watson.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

“ Sadly, I’m not the one to decide how this will go on. You know what this means, do you?”

John nodded. He knew that his plan to get better quickly would fail.

“Please, give me a chance. This is important to me”, he pleaded quietly and yet composed.

“Alright”, the other man said. “You got three  weeks to recover and get back to full health.”

“Thank  you, Sir .”

It was early the next morning when John decided to get up. He felt good and his fever was down, his pain at bay. A bit shaky he got up and sat on the edge of the bed, before he got rid of the IV and cables when one of his man hurried to him. 

“Doctor Watson!”, he shouted alarmed. “You shouldn’t get up just now Sir. You’re not fully recovered yet.”

“I feel way better already. It’s time I’ll start to get up and going. Please, get me some clothes”, he asked since he only wore a tiny patient gown that barely covered him.

The young soldier obeyed and left him alone for a moment, arriving a few minutes later with the clothes. He helped him get dressed and stayed by John’s side while he walked a few steps around in the hospital tent. It felt good to get out of bed a bit and walk around. John never liked staying in bed since his accident as a teenager when he had broken his femur. Thankfully it had never been necessary resting this much until now. He was  grateful that the young soldier stayed with him. 

“Sir, you really shouldn’t exert yourself this much”, the younger one said concerned.

“It has to be”, John said calmly. “My work here isn’t done yet.”

Half an hour later John lay exhausted in his bed again. His pain was worse than before and back with full force but he declined any more pain medication and started to write a letter for James instead.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry....

_ London _

Every time a bit more. He had started to increase his dose he needed to get high. So today, but today was different. He felt sick so he sat on the bathroom floor beside the toilette. His clothes were dirty, he had a light beard and his hands were shaking. He felt miserable. Something had gone wrong. Had it been too much after all? He wasn’t sure. His heart beat and his breathing slowed down. He knew the symptoms of the O.D. but ignored them. He was sure it would get better soon...

Someone said his name. It sounded far way and muffled, but someone talked. Darkness gave away the light and what were shadows before, were now clear pictures and forms. He blinked into the light. The room he was in was white and he knew immediately that he was in an hospital. But why? He looked around. His brother sat on a chair beside the bed and looked at him. There was worry and anger in his eyes. 

“Why did you do it?”, he asked quietly and cold.

“What do you care? You didn’t care for me in years. What I did, when I did it”, he answered angry. 

Anger had been his defence mechanism for years now and it had helped him to not get too involved. He hated it when his brother got involved. Besides this was the only way how he could help Scotland Yard. He had to work quick and precise when they gave him a case. He realised how angry his brother was and that moment the older one lost his temper.

“Enough!”, he shouted at him. “You will go into rehab. I already organised everything. It can’t go on like this. We found you just in time. You could have died! What would I have said to our mother and father? How would I have explained that you have thrown all your talent away and are a junkie? I’m truly worried, please start accepting it!” He wanted to protest but the older one cut him off. “You will head into the clinic and you’re going to get clean. Understood?”

“I won’t!”, he said. “I won’t let  you boss me around anymore.”

He put the blanket away, ripped the IV and tubes out and stood up. Searching he looked for his clothes. His brother stood beside him now, eyes gleaming with anger.

“Don’t be stupid”, he said harsh. “You won’t even make it to the door before you’ll collapse.”

“We’ll see about that”, he grumbled and slowly got into his clothes who had been in a bag under his bed. 

Then he slowly and quite unsteady and shaking, made his way to the door. It truly was way more exhausting than he had thought at first and after a few metres he started to shake heavily and felt weak. But he didn’t want to give up in front of his brother and prove him right so he moved on carefully. He made it to the door and into the hallway but all this time his brother had an eye on him.

_ Afghanistan _

John’s three weeks of recovery where nearly over. His wounds were still healing and his pain not as bad as the first days but he was still way too weak. But he couldn’t give up! He had to get better so he could stay here and do his job. To do what he loved. To help his comrades. Slowly he got up from his small cot and got outside to train. He had started with some light weight training and physiotherapy to get fit again. For a few hours he worked out before he got back to his tent. The pain was unbearable and so he took some morphine to stop it and get some rest.

When John woke  up, he had a letter from James on his table and a note. The note was from his highest superior who was waiting for him so John get going once more and made his way to the tent of his superior.

“Ah, Doctor Watson, good to have you here already. How are you?”

“Very good, thank you Sir.”

John tried to preserve his stance although his shoulder hurt.

“I’ve read your file”, the man opposite continued. “You still have some pain and take heavy meds. Not very promising for another  mission or the  treatment of patients.”

“Sir, I still got time. You gave me three weeks.”

“But those are nearly over! You haven’t made any progress  Doctor .”

John knew that he couldn’t change his mind because the decision had already been made. But he would make it! He  couldn't leave! 

“Sir”, he tried once more but  the other soldier interrupted him. 

“Watson, stop! We both know that you won’t make it. Think like a doctor for Christ's sake! Think about what you’d tell your patients. Think of what you’d advise  them to do and then do yourself the favour and act after it.”

He knew he was right. He knew he couldn’t go on like this. John squared his shoulders. He couldn’t let him see how this decision hurt him or influenced his life. He couldn’t let him see that inside his world crumbled apart.

“As you wish Sir. When will my flight leave?”, he asked more sorted than he was.

“The day after tomorrow in the morning. You’ll get home with some other injured soldiers. Here’s your official discharge letter Doctor. You’ll get a suitable pension and all the medical attention and help you’ll need plus a medal for your bravery.”

“Sir.”

He took the letter and headed outside. This was the point of no return.

_ 3  _ _ days _ __ _ later _ _ , London _

John stepped outside the helicopter that had landed on military ground. He didn’t want to be here anymore. He couldn’t stay any longer. It was heavily raining and John was soaked in a few minutes. Limping he made his way out of the base and to the nearest tube station. He limping had only started a few days ago. Including the shaking of his left hand, but it got worse on a daily basis. He assumed that he had jammed or injured some nerves that made him shake and limp. The doctor had no idea where to go. His sister didn’t want to see him anymore after a heavy row a few days back. He couldn’t go to James even though he had invited him. He simply couldn’t face him and look him in the eye in this condition. He aimlessly drove off with the next tube he saw arriving. Without looking for the way, his feet had gotten him back to the small B&B he had slept in during his last home leave. There was a room left he thankfully took. The old lady was very nice once more and offered him a late lunch but he declined and made his way upstairs. There were only 4.5h of time difference but he was still exhausted. Tired the doctor sat on the bed, letting his bag glide to the floor. It felt weird being back and knowing that it would be permanently. He had no idea what he could do now. He didn’t want to give up, that wasn’t his style. John needed a newspaper. He had to get his life sorted. Watson once more left his room and headed deeper into the city where he found a small newspaper stand where he brough some and headed into a small café nearby. The job section wasn’t as good as he had hoped and John knew that going back to work would still take some time until he was fully healed. Instead he looked for a place to stay and found some objects that were suitable for him and he would  like to see them the next days. 

_ 1 week later _

John packed his stuff, payed his rent for the small room in the B &B and headed to the address where he had found a little apartment. He met up with an agent from the real estate company who handed him the contract and keys. He signed. The first step into a new life, he thought and smiled a bit.

The flat was small. He closed the door and stood in the tiny corridor from where he stepped into the small room. The kitchen was separated through a small counter but the rest of the room was open. From the small hallway you’d be able to get into the tiny bathroom. The flat was furnished, but there was only a small table by the kitchen, a tiny desk under one of the two windows and a small bed with a nightstand. It was enough. John packed his clothes into the small build-in wardrobe, opened the window and sat at the small desk. Flat done, he thought. Now he needed a physiotherapist. He had to get on his feet again to find a job. 

The next weeks he headed regularly to physiotherapy but it wouldn’t get better. His shaking in his hand and the limp in his leg was getting worse. For every job he applied, he was refused. Added to that he also had problems due to the weather. He wasn’t used to the cold and rain anymore, that’s why he ended up with a bad cold and pneumonia. Only when he couldn’t go on, he made his way to a doctor’s office who immediately transferred him to hospital. The doctors were worried about his condition, also because his psychological state he was in, was getting worse. John knew that they were wrong, he was fine, he just hated to be in hospital. That was the reason he left after a few days into his recovery. The young doctor let him go, but wrote him a prescription for some hours at a therapist and some meds for his pneumonia. He thanked her and wanted to leave when she held him back with her next words.

“Here, I think you could use this Doctor.”

She handed him a therapeutic walking cane which he took gratefully and then left. On his way home he stopped to buy some groceries and the papers. Tired and exhausted he got home quite late. He dumped his mail on the table, put the groceries away and then looked through his letters. He had some post from the military.  Also, some letters from James. He didn’t even bother to open them and just put them in the desk drawer before he headed to take a shower.

He sat in a bright and nice room in the recovery center his brother had gotten him in. He felt miserable since he  hasn’t had a decent shot of heroin in days. And he was bored. The people around him were boring and dull.

“How are you feeling?”, a nurse asked him.

She looked for him every hour and he had deduced her in a few seconds. She loved her job. Cat owner in a small flat in one of the suburbs. She was living alone, had a mother she had to take care of and no relationship. Despite the fact that she was also one of those ordinary humans around him, he liked her. She understood him. The nurse stepped closer and handed him a book. She had made it a habit of getting him new books every time she was here.

“ Particle and quantum physics?”

“I thought you might like it”, she said smiling.

“Thank you.”

The rest of the day he read the book and secured all the information in a part of his mid place. It was late when he got interrupted by a knock at the door and his brother stepping in. Silent his brother sat on the small bed and looked at the young man who watched him, sitting in the armchair by the window, a book on his lap.

“How are you?”, he wanted to know but the younger one didn’t answer. “The doctors say you’re  doing fine with your rehab. But your psychological state is something different.”

“What’s with my psychological state? I’m fine!”, he protested harsh.

“You’re suicidal”, his brother said calmly. “According to the doctors. I think  its boredom though. This has been the case quite often.”

He grumbled and continued to look out of the window again. His brother had no idea. They had become strangers, but he still seemed to think that he had still the right to say what he should do with his life and how he should live it. 

“When will I get out?”

“That depends if you’re cooperating or not. Talk to your therapist. Show them that they are wrong and you’ll get out of here sooner than expected.”

A loud ringing interrupted them and the older one got out his phone and looked at it. 

“Duties calling. See you, brother dear.”

He didn’t answer and thought about what his brother had said. Maybe he should talk to his therapist so he would get out sooner. But he has had his fair share of therapists and that was the reason he was suspicious and had refused to go to a therapist before.

The next day, when the nurse came to check up on him, she asked him again.

“You really should go and see a therapist. I’m sure it’ll help you.”

“Alright”, he agreed this  time and looked emotionless at her.

“Brilliant! I’ll set up something with Doctor Palmer then.”

A few hours later he already sat in a small sunny office with a view to the small lake and waited for Doctor Palmer. His thoughts were interrupted when the office door was opened and the nurse who always visited him, stepped inside. She didn’t wear her scrubs but a grey pencil skirt, high heels and a dark blue blouse. She sat opposite him in the matching armchair and put her notebook on the small table beside her.

“Very clever, I have to give you that”, he said calm and smiled a bit. “Win my trust through these daily visits and get the patient to talk eventually.”

“It’s hard to get to know you. To come close to you. You’re very reclusive.”

She didn’t make notes or was too intrusive. The young man simply scrutinized her. He didn’t see it coming but it was a very clever move of her.

“Did you like the book?”

“Oh yes”, he  answered truthfully. “It was very interesting.”

“Why did you finally say yes to a meeting with me? I suppose to get out of here more quickly.” Did he become this transparent? “Believe me, you’re not the first one who agrees to get out early”, she said on his look. “Please tell me about you.”

“You know my file Doctor.”

“I do. But the file is not very informative.”

He knew why he had liked her, even though his mind hadn’t seen it. She was kind. She didn’t judge him.

“You know what always fascinated me?”, he asked into the room while he got up and stepped to the window to look out. “Chemistry. Simple and beautiful. Everything’s a process that’s predictable and logical. Without analysing what’s behind it. With humans it’s different. Humans are complicated and untransparent with what they truly mean and what they say. They often don’t say what they mean. They lie and complicate things. As little boy I was often confused why people are like this. Now even this is simple and not a mystery anymore. Even humans are simple you just have to read them correctly.”

“And you can do it?”

“Everyone can”, he said calmly. “You just have to observe. You are pretty good at observing people, aren’t you? You know what all these feelings mean right?”

“If you want to put it like that. Yes, I think I'm pretty good at reading people’s feelings and communicate with them. But what you mean by all this?”

He stayed silent. He wasn’t good at this. He had always coped with the logical stuff. With science and not with feelings. Feelings were complicated and confusing. Feelings hurt.

“You play the violin?”, the young doctor asked after a while. 

“Yes.”

“You want to play for me?”, she asked and gestured to a violin case on her desk.

It was about half a year now that he was back. His shoulder still bothered him and the limp and the shaking didn’t get better either. Worse, if he was honest to himself. John has had a job at a doctor’s office for a few weeks, but got fired soon because “how could someone who was this sick, help sick people”. He thought it was a  ridiculous reason. 

It was another rainy and cold day – after a short walk  \- he headed back to his flat. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw who was waiting by the front door for him.

“What are you doing here?”, he asked irritated.

“I just wanted to see you after you didn’t answer any letters”, James said calmly and scrutinized him carefully. “You look horrible.”

He didn’t want to see James. He wanted to put everything behind him and seeing him again, didn’t make things easier. To know that he had destroyed his life, it still hurt him. 

“Can I come upstairs?”

“No”, John simply said.

“I told you, I’d wait for you”, the older man said. “Like I promised I have waited for your next letter, waited for you to return and that we could see each other. When I didn’t receive an answer on my letters, I was worried. I gathered some information what had happened to you, why you didn’t write me. When they told me that you were discharged because you were wounded and had returned to London, I...” He stopped. “I needed a long time to come here since I thought that you’d need time but you’d contact me. But you didn’t. Why?”

“I couldn’t”, John answered truthfully. “I still beat myself up because of what I did to you. That you can’t move your arm because I fucked it up. That you had to go home because of it.”

“I needed a long time to accept what had happened to me. To deal with it properly. But you are not responsible John. I got my hospital file and asked a few doctors for their opinion. Every one of these doctors agreed that there wasn’t anything left that you could have done. You did more than was necessary and it’s only because of you that I still have my arm and can move it a bit. You helped me as best as you could and I am thankful for it.”

John knew he could have done better. He had been just too scared to  lose James, to go there all the way. To do his job properly. If he would have been another solider, he would have tried, but not with James. He clenched his fists to control the shaking of his left hand but it wouldn’t help.

“I always thought you wanted to try again”, James said hopeful but John stayed silent. “But apparently that’s not the case.”

“No it’s not”, John lied.

“I’m really sorry how I behaved when you were here. I’m sorry this happened to you. If you need anything just let me know. I’m here for you.”

“James, please... It’s over. You don’t have to feel guilty and you don’t have to take care of me.”

His words had been biting but he couldn’t help it. He was a wreck and he didn’t want to pull James into the darkness in which he was. He didn’t want to hurt him more than he had already done so he shoved him away for his own good.

“No letters?”

“No”, John said. “Just leave me alone.”

Without warning Sholto stepped closer and kissed him. It was unexpected and yet so familiar.

“Goodbye John” he mumbled and vanished.

Sad John looked at his vanishing figure. He knew it had been the right decision for both of them. But it still hurt. Unhappy and alone he headed upstairs to his apartment that looked way dreary than usual.

John’s fighting spirit slowly died. The thought of starting a new life with the thing he loved doing, hurt him and he knew that it was impossible to get back to his old life. He barely ate, slept miserable since the nightmares had started and he just had nothing that kept him going these days. Every morning it was harder to get up. Every day he just wanted to get things over with and head back to bed. He even thought about finishing this all. He was a good doctor and knew that he had severe depression but he ignored it and told himself that he was fine. He continued with his daily routine to survive. To survive even though he had no idea what for or for whom.


	6. Chapter 6

Bag in his hand, the young man exited the rehabilitation centre. It took way more time than he had thought until they had let him out. A black car was waiting for him and he sighed. But without protest he got inside where his brother was already waiting for him. Silent the scrutinized each other for a moment.

“How are you?”, the older one finally asked carefully.

“Good”, he confessed.

A few seconds later the car started to move and got him to his brother’s house. He had insisted that he would live with him until he was feeling better and he had promised him. Between the two of them, had been a lot of friction since their childhood and it had only gotten worse during the last years. The time in the clinic had helped him a great deal and had taught him a great deal of things. Even Doctor Palmer – even though he would never confess it in front of his brother – had been a great help and support for him and she was the one who had made him change his life. To not waste his talent and to actually start fixing things between his brother and himself. They arrived after a while and personally his brother got him upstairs to one of the huge and luxurious bedrooms he owned in his house in Belgravia.

“I left everything as it was”, he said and  opened the door to the room.

The young man stepped inside and looked around. He didn’t lie. Everything was exactly the same as when he had lived here as a young teenager. Silent he put his bag on the floor and stepped back to his brother.

“Thank you”, he said and his brother smiled softly.

“Your welcome. I’m so glad that you’re better. I have to get to the office now, but make yourself at home. Margaret is still working for me. You can go to her if you need anything.”

He nodded and then his brother was gone. After putting his clothes into the wardrobe, he wandered through the house a bit. Nothing had changed in all those years since he had stayed here. After a while the young man got bored and so he decided to have a walk and to visit the DI. It was time to announce that he was back. He got into his coat, it had started to rain again and was getting colder – and marched off to the city. Entering Scotland Yard was different this time. He felt different. Like usual the office was loud and stuffed. He walked through the corridors to the office of the DI and a lot of eyes followed him. For them he was ‘The Freak’ who helped. The DI was on the phone when he stopped by his door and so he waited.

“I want this fucking arsehole behind bars! Do you understand? I don’t give a shit how you do it, but find him!”, he shouted into the phone and then banged the phone down on the hook.

He knocked and the DI looked up. 

“You’re back!”, he said excited to see him. “Since when?”

“I was never gone”, he said calm and the DI smiled.

“Good to have you back.”

“I’m happy to be back again”, he confessed. “You look worried, what’s wrong?”

The look of the DI was worried and he seemed tired.

“We lost a suspect.” He handed him the file. “He was part of a few kidnappings, drugs, the usual stuff. All this ended in the murder of a politician that got hijacked. We know that he was part of the kidnapping but not who’s responsible for the killing. We questioned all the suspects and even made a few arrests but they had nothing to do with the murder. When we found out that our suspect was more involved than we first thought, we put him on the wanted list but he’s vanished! He seems to  have disappeared off the face of the earth.”

He looked at the file more closely. Young man named Jacob Williams, 27 years of age. Criminal record of assault, misuse of controlled substances and  harassment .

“He’s not your guy”, he said simply after finishing his read through.

“He vanished. That  makes him very suspicious, don’t you think?”

The young man nodded and the two of them headed outside. The DI got him to his car and they drove off to the crime scene and to the flat of their suspect. The next days he was occupied by this case. The fourth day he was involved, they finally had a new and solid lead where Jacob Williams was. Late in the afternoon, they drove off to a pub near Hyde Park in which William had been seen.

“You wait outside and I’ll go in?”, the younger man suggested and the DI agreed.

The DI positioned himself very closely while he got inside the pub. It was crowded and stifling. In a few seconds he had searched the crowd and found their suspect. The one they searched sat with a tall, muscular man with a dark look at a table by the bar. They talked quietly and Williams looked around now and then, as if he felt watched. Jacob’s eyes met his. He cursed under his breath and stepped closer but both men jumped up and hurried outside. The bigger one through the back and their suspect through the front door. Immediately he was on his feet and followed the other man who stumbled outside and down the few steps of the pub onto the sidewalk. Wiliams crossed the road and he followed him, only a few steps behind where the DI and his men were waiting. He elegantly and quickly made his way through the crowd that exited and entered the park. Accidentally he collided with a smaller man with a cane. Only in a hurry their eyes met before he was off and on Jacob’s heels again. A few metres away he finally got him, pulling him roughly to the ground where he held him down before the DI handcuffed their suspect, read him his rights and pulled him up and to a police car a few metres away. Afterwards the DI returned to the young man and thanked him for his help.

“Will you come back to the station?”

“No. I’m sure you’ll manage just fine without me.”

“Alright. Do you still have your old number?”

“No, hang on...”

The young man handed the DI his new phone number and offered his help once more the other gratefully took. Then he was off again, wandering through the crowds to his brother’s house. Then it suddenly hit him after a few minutes. He stopped dead in tracks and blinked unbelieving before he turned and ran away to the spot where he had collided with the man. The same blue eyes he had looked for all those months ago had belonged to him! The blue eyes that had haunted him in his dreams. He looked and looked but the man with the cane was nowhere to be found. Giving up after a while, he swore and continued his way home in a bad temper.

Late that n ight John arrived home with the daily newspaper in hand.

“Doctor Watson”, a young soldier spoke to him when he came closer to the house entrance.

“What do you want here?”, he asked annoyed.

He just wanted to be alone.

“Sir, I’m here to collect you for your appointment.”

“I won’t go”, was his calm answer.

“But Sir,  that’s an  order !”

“Then I’ll simply disobey it”, he now said angry. “And tell these doctors, that they don’t have to send anyone anymore!”

“Sir.”

John stepped past him to the door, unlocked it and got inside. Slowly and limping, he got upstairs to the third floor to his apartment. Angry he shut the door, tossed the newspaper onto the small desk and started undressing to look at his shoulder. The wound was fine but it hurt since the collision with the man in the park. John took some pain killers and tiredly sat by the kitchen table to look over the vacancies. He found nothing suitable and tossed the paper frustrated into the bin before he headed to bed. He was tired due to the lack of sleep since nightmares where his companion every night. The next day the young soldier returned and once more asked him to come to the appointment. Like the day before John denied and ordered him to go away before he went for a long walk. The next days continued to be like this. 

The front door opened and he heard his younger brother walking through the hallway. Ill-tempered he stepped into his office and slumped down on the sofa. 

“What’s wrong?”, he asked calm and looked up from his files.

“I need your help.”

“What do you need?”

The younger one finally had decided to tell him about the blue eyes and that he couldn’t find them after he had lost them again today.

“Please, this is important to me”, he confessed to his elder brother. 

“What will you do if I find the eyes for you? What will you say to the man if you’re meeting him?”

He had no idea. He just knew that he wanted to find the blue eyes. 

“Alright”, his brother agreed then. “I’m trying to find him.”

“Thank you.”

Nearly another week passed when John had another visitor. It was late when he returned from the pub. He was slightly drunk and only wanted to sleep and rest. Tired he walked through the rain that had started an hour ago and arrived soaked in front of his house when he saw another figure by the front door. He had thought he would never see him after their last visit. James Sholto.

“What are you doing here?”

“I have to talk to you John.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

John stepped into the house and upstairs. James followed him, but he didn’t care. He just wanted to be alone. 

“Why are you doing this?”, James asked and followed him into the flat.

“Why am I doing what?”, John asked tired and they stepped into his kitchen while he searched for some pain killers.

“You’re disobey orders, you’re completely secluded, you don’t care about your health at all... What’s wrong with you John?”

“I’m tired! I’m tired to be remembered about what happened. To be remembered that I lost what I loved the most, what made my life meaningful. To be responsible for your condition, I’ll never forgive myself for this.”

“You did what you could, I told you before.”

“No, I didn’t”, he sighed defeated.

“John...”

“Why are you really here?”

“I wanted to persuade you to go to your appointment. They can help you John and you do look as if you need help.”

James had seen that he was limping, his left hand shaking and his shoulder was making him problems. He looked tired, took heavy pain meds and drank. And apparently – and that was what made him worried the most – John had concluded with his life. The doctor laughed.

“No, I don’t need any help. I just want to be alone and close this chapter in my life.”

“But I won’t leave you alone”, James now protested. “You do need help John.”

“Is this your way of saying that I’m crazy?”

“No, but you’re not stable. You talk about life as if it would be over already. But it isn’t. You can start new. We can start anew.”

James took his hand and stepped closer. John didn’t want this. It wouldn’t end well.

“James...”

“Hush...”, the other soldier mumbled, standing right in front of him now, softly putting a finger on his lips to make him shut up. “I know that I hurt you by shoving you away when you wanted to help. I’m sorry about it. But now I won’t turn my back on you when you need help. Please, talk to me. Don’t throw all this away and let’s start something new together.”

John ignored what he had said and pressed his lips on James’. Their bodies and lips pressed together and the kiss got more and more heated. James shoved him with his hips against the small countertop and held him. John got rid of every thought in his mind. All problems, all resolutions. He just wanted to kiss him. It was heavenly and way too long since someone had been this close. James shoved his hips more against his’ and John moaned into their kiss.

“Is this not worth it to try it again and go on?”, Sholto asked between kisses and John silently agreed, but stayed silent and pulled him closer once more.

But James didn’t let him and interrupted their kiss for a moment.

“Promise me you won’t do something stupid”, James asked surprisingly and stern.

John wanted to promise him, but he couldn’t. Quietly he just looked into the other man’s eyes and James knew that he wouldn’t make such a promise to him. He knew that all his further tries to bring John back and to make him feel better, would mean nothing.

“And we’re back at the beginning”, Sholto concluded with his calm dark voice and once more saw the sadness in John’s eyes.

John stepped away and a bit back. He cleared his throat uncomfortably.

“Thank you for your visit.”

A more direct expulsion wasn’t even possible. James nodded, headed to the door and stopped once more before he would leave.

“You know where to find me if you need anything or if you change your mind.”

The door closed itself a moment later and John was alone once more. Alone and more depressed than before. Exhaustion sought his way into his foggy and drugged mind and he slumped on the tiny bed and closed his eyes for a moment. What a mess...

“You can’t find him? What does this mean? You can find anyone!”

He was angry. What was going on? It was impossible that his brother didn’t find the blue eyes. It never happened.

“It means what it means!”, the older one said calmly. “He’s nowhere to be found and  your information wasn’t very specific after all. It didn’t make things easier for me.”

He mumbled something inaudible and left the office. For a moment he hesitated but then he grabbed his coat and was out and wandered through the London streets.

The elder one sighed.  Of course, he had found the man with the blue eyes. A quick look into some CCTV footage, a bit of research and he had identified him.

Doctor John H. Watson, nickname “three-continent-Watson". Retired Army doctor that shortly returned from Afghanistan. According to his doctors he was highly depressive and suicidal. A known affair with Major James Sholto had just ended after the former had been sent home, also due to getting wounded in action. The doctor had been injured heavily and had been sent home, some symptoms where psychosomatic though. There had been a few entries in his army file about disobeying orders. He had also found another entry of misuse of narcotics from his youth. He tended to a high consumption of alcohol. All in all, no good company for his brother so he would never get his brother and the doctor together. He couldn’t let it happen that his brother was in bad company and to relapse again. Even if this meant that he had to lie and disappoint him. It was for his own good.

It knocked and his thoughts were interrupted.

“Yes?” 

The door opened and the DI looked inside.

“Am I interrupting?”

“No, please come on in. I’m glad you could come over. Please take a seat Detective Inspector.”

The DI obeyed and sat in a comfortable armchair opposite the man. The inspector had no idea why he was here and why he wanted to talk to him. He leaned back, crossed his legs and watched the DI for a long time. He had read his file. A good police officer, divorced, no children, living in a small flat in the city. He spends lots of nights with his colleagues in the pub or bowling. He had no criminal record and was one of the honest police officers. Besides he was very attractive. Hair silvery grey already, nice cut suit.

“Why am I here”, the DI asked calmly after a long silence.

“You’re working with my brother. Contracting him as external consultant on some more complicated cases. I heard he’s contacted you again.”   
“Yes, that’s right.”

“You’re an honest and good police officer and the only one who’s treating my brother normal. You don’t see him as freak or just use him for his  abilities . You care for him and I’m very grateful for it.”

“Your brother’s brilliant. He’s very private but he’s a genius.”

“As you know he was gone for a while now. You also know that he has a serious drug problem.” The DI nodded. “He was in rehab. He’s better now but I know it’s hard for him to resist. It always had been. So please, keep him away from any drug related cases.”

“I will”, the DI said immediately. “I’ll look after him.”

“Thank you.”

The DI stood up and they shook hands before he left the room.

“Detective Inspector!”, the older brother shouted after him and he turned around once more. “Here’s my number if you should need anything or if something happens to my brother.”

The other man handed the DI a small business card he had scribbled his mobile phone number on in a nice and elegant hand. He smiled softly.

“I’ll contact you if there’s something wrong”, the DI promised once more and left the elegant house.


	7. Chapter 7

He stood in front of a club he had visited regularly, hands buried in his coat, collar turned up, watching the entrance. He had no idea how long he was standing in front of the building or what he was doing here. After a while he turned around and continued walking through the dark streets when something or more someone caught his eye. A man with blue eyes. He wasn’t sure if it was the man he was looking for, so he followed him unobtrusively. After a while he realised that it wasn’t the man with his blue eyes and so he left him alone again. It once more had started to rain and soon he was soaked and decided to head home. He could hear his brother pacing his office while being on the phone. Probably some government busines. Bored he headed upstairs to his old room, changed into some dry clothes and slumped on the bed where he sank into his mind palace. He remembered the feeling when getting high and he felt the urge to do it again. He missed the calm. The adventure, the rush... Unsettled he tossed and turned and tried to think of something else.

John woke up through his ringing phone. He hadn’t slept very well that night and so he tiredly sat up and took the call when he reached his desk where his mobile phone sat. 

“Yes?”

“John.”

“Yes. What do you want?”

“I wanted to ask if you want to come over for dinner?”

“Who is this?”, he asked confused.

“It’s me, Clara.”

“Oh... Okay...  No I don’t think this is a good idea”, John then confessed.

“John, please. You haven’t phoned once since your return. But a nice dinner would do you both good. It’s time that you and Harry talk and make up with each other.”

“You know as well as I do, that this is never  going to happen. There’s too much between us.”

“I guess I’ll never understand what this is between you two”, she sighed. “Please think about it. We’ll have dinner around 7pm.”

“Thank you for your offer”, he said. “I’m glad Harry’s got you.”

“And don’t be a stranger!”, she once more pleaded before she hung up.

He liked Clara and was happy that Harry had married her after all these years. They were perfect together and both healed each other. The thought about the two of them made him sick because his thoughts still lingered with James and what they have had. Shaking John got up and made his way to the bathroom. He was still in pain and thought that a hot shower was the right thing. Afterwards he stepped to the fridge, dressed in a dressing gown. He looked in and found only a bit of milk left. He craved some coffee so he dressed and headed to a small bistro a few streets away to grab some strong coffee. When he returned home, there were a few soldiers waiting for him. 

“Doctor Watson?”

“I told you before, I won’t come!”, he answered angry. “What do you still want here?”

“Sir, we got the order to arrest you and bring you in front of the council.”

The young man nodded and two of his comrades stepped forward and they arrested John, putting his hands violently behind his back. Watson swore and tried to get free but it wouldn’t do any good. They got him away and he was brought in front of a special council who would look at his case. He could see his former superior and lots of unknown faces.

“Doctor John H. Watson, Fifth Northumberland  Fusselier , shortly returned from Afghanistan because of an injury. You’ve been told before to show up here and to show up for your doctor’s appointment. You disobeyed a direct order. Why?”, one of the men in the middle of the table answered.

“I am a doctor. There’s simply no reason to go to that appointment. I’m fine”, he answered calmly.

He didn’t care what consequences his words had. He had lost everything already.

“Our information's tell us a different story. You’ve had medical  treatment because of pneumonia. You’ve vanished a few days into the hospitalization. Why?”

“Because of my medical opinion. I wasn’t too sick and it was  unnecessary to be in hospital for further treatment.”

“The doctor’s spoke to you about your psychological condition because you’re highly depressive. They offered you help but you declined. Why Doctor Watson?”

“How often do I have to tell you? I’m fine!”

“We have different information. We’ve been told that you’ve been diagnosed with PTSD and are suicidal.”

“That’s complete bollocks! Who told you all this?!”, he asked angrily and half shouting.

The man looked into a file that was in front of him and then to the others. He looked uncomfortable before he  answered .

“Major James Sholto.”

John got pale. How could James do that to him? He had trusted him and then this? He betrayed him? Defeated he let his head sink and gave into his destiny.

“You’ll start with therapy. We will send you the details. And you’ll head to your appointments regularly for checking up on your health. If you don’t follow our  orders, this will have consequences Doctor.”

John nodded while someone opened his handcuffs and he was released. When he stepped into the hallway, he found James waiting for him.

“John, I...”, he started when he saw the Doctor’s look. “It was for your own good.”

“For my own good?”, John said way calmer than he felt. “You have no idea what that means! You only thought that getting involved would make things better. Even what’s between us? No, it’s not that easy...”

He stepped past James and got outside. It had started to rain again. He could hear James shouting his name but he didn’t stop. He just walked away, alone and betrayed by the man he had loved. It hurt. The thought of everything they had been through together and now this? John headed to the closest pub that was by his flat and got drunk. He still remembered how they had first met.

It had been in his last year at university. He had participated in a hearing James had lectured. It was about various things that were important during an assignment in the field. He had already volunteered to participated in them if necessary but was declined due to his lack of experience. He had been fascinated by the experience of the older man. During the whole reading, he had listened closely and had headed to him afterwards to talk and ask some more questions.

_ “Sir... Do you have moment, please?” _

_ “Of course.” _

_ “What would be necessary to let a newly finished doctor participate? To be active in the  _ _ field _ _ and not only in some camp?” _

_ “Why are you this interested to head into the field? Every other doctor would be happy to stay in a calm tent.” _

_ “It’s my duty to save lives. And I can do this the best if I’m there were the people are wounded and need my help.” _

_ James looked at him interested. A young, dedicated student. John waited patiently for an answer. They sat together and talked about everything John wanted to know. _

Now he smiled at the memory and sipped at his beer. He was drunk, tired, sentimental and in pain. It was time to head back to his flat. Alone. He put some pounds on the bar by his glass and left. 

About a week later he received a letter from his superiors. His first appointment with his therapist Ella Thompson would be Thursday at 4pm.

Thursday came sooner than expected. Tired John got up – after another restless night full of nightmares he had supressed with enough alcohol – to get ready for his appointment in the late afternoon. He still had two hours left so he decided to make himself a cup of tea, read the newspaper and headed to take a hot shower. At precisely 4pm he rang the bell at the address of the office of Ella Thompson. A woman in her mid-thirties opened and smiled softly at him.

“You must be Doctor Watson”, she said calmly. “Please come on in.”

He stepped inside and she got him to a small room with a bay and a look at the garden. In front of the huge window were two comfortable looking brown armchairs. In another corner of the room was a small desk. The room was comfortable and elegantly decorated.

“Please have a seat”, she offered and gestured to one of the armchairs while she stepped to the desk for a moment.

He sat down and waited for her to sit down as well. She did, holding a file and a notebook in her hands. Silent they sat opposite each other, scrutinizing the other one carefully and interested. John just waited. 

“Doctor Watson, I’m very pleased you came. I hope I can help you with these appointments but this is only possible if we work together on this and not against each other. It will take time until you trust me, until we trust each other. Then I hope that you will tell me what happened to you, over time. But don’t get me wrong, we have enough time. For a lot of people who come here it’s hard to talk about their problems with strangers. But believe me if you start with it, it gets easier over time.”

John stayed silent and just watched her. She was very nice and seemed trustworthy, but he had learned his lesson so he stayed silent.

“It was not your choice to be here?”, she asked.

“I’ve my orders”, he simply said.

“And your orders involved coming here? Still you find it useless?”

“I’m fine”, he said and looked into her eyes.

Ella could see that he lied. This would be a difficult case, she could tell.

“Do you want a cup of tea?”, she offered and he took her offer. “Please tell me about yourself”, she said while she made them two cups of tea on a nearby commode.

“What do you want to know?”

“Well I know that you were an Army Doctor, you got send home due to your injuries. According to your medical file you got injured on your left shoulder. You’re limping and your hand is shaking which I’d diagnose as PTSD, so did the doctors. Your file also says that you’re depressive and suicidal. But that’s a thing I believe only when I diagnose it myself”, she said smiling and handed him his tea a moment later.

She had humour, he liked that. Still he continued to be  careful . She sat opposite him again with her own cup and made a note.

“Tell me about yourself. What do you like to do? You surely have a few hobbies. What are you doing since you are back? Just the usual  small talk ”, Ella tried to encourage him. 

“The usual small talk”, he repeated. “Is that even possible with a therapist?”

She laughed but he continued to stay silent. She simply hoped that the next session would be better and they made a new appointment.

Once more punctually he stood in front of her door at 4pm and the two sat in the comfortable armchairs where a fresh cup of tea was already waiting for him. She saw that he felt a bit better than two days before. Since he didn’t have a hangover, she hoped that he would talk more as well. 

“How are you feeling today Doctor Watson?”

“Sober”, he answered sarcastic and sipped from his tea.

“Are you drinking much?”

“Funny question for an ex-soldier in therapy who lost everything.”

“I had many soldiers here in my sessions but not every one of them drank.” John grumbled and sipped from his tea again. “Why do you think that you lost everything? You’re a good doctor. Nobody can take that away from you.”

“They already did when they tossed me out and made me retire”, John confessed while his hand started shaking violently.

“How do you manage with this?”, Ella asked who obviously saw it.

“With this?”, he asked and held up his shaking hand while she nodded. “There are good days and bad days. Today’s a bad day. I changed my shirt because I poured a bloody cup of tea over myself. Does this answer your question? I wake up every goddamn day and look for a reason to go on. To deal with everything.”

This definitely sounded like  depressions for her and she made another note.

“It is hard for you to be back. I can see that. But don’t you think that it would be easier to just move on? Leave your old life behind?”

“Do your really believe I haven’t tried that already? I found a flat, was looking for a job. Even had one for a while but got fired because I’m not healthy enough. I tried everything!”

“How is your personal life? Do you have a relationship? Someone who supports you? How is your relationship with your family?”

She could see that he felt uncomfortable about these questions.

“Do you have a relationship?”, she asked once more.

“Not anymore”, he answered honestly.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?”

John shook his head and drank the rest of his tea. 

“John, I’ve a lot of experience with the treatment of soldiers. I know how hard it is, it was for all of them one way or the other. One of my patients started to write a blog. He got better. It did him good to talk about things. He dealt with it through his writing. Maybe you should try it”, she suggested.

“I’ll think about it.”

He had to show her that he worked with her and not  against her or he would never get out of here and would have a session every bloody day! 

_ Middle of December _

It was about 3 weeks now that he was in therapy but John didn’t feel better at all. It only hurt him more when she asked him questions about themes he couldn’t or wouldn’t answer because he wanted to forget. Especially questions about James, his last relationship, and his family.

“Why don’t you want to tell me about it?”, Ella often asked persistent. “What happened?”

“I told you over and over, that I don’t want to talk about it!”, he screamed one afternoon. “It’s enough that I’m here and answer all the other questions you’re asking.”

Ella made another note but was unimpressed by his shouting. For the rest of the session he stayed silent and after exactly an hour he stood up and left her office. He had to get out. He needed some space and just wanted to forget her persistent questions.  _ Why did you become a doctor? What did your last relationship mean to you? Why did you  _ _ split-up _ _? Why don’t you have any contact to your family? What do you want to do in the future?  _ He walked through the park and home when it started to snow. 

When he arrived at his flat, he seriously considered Ella’s suggestion of writing a blog. Deep in his thoughts he sat at his desk and started his laptop. He had to show her that he was getting better or at least pretend that he was. To get out of this idiotic therapy that didn’t help at all! Maybe that was the solution and his way out? He looked at the laptop for ages. Half an hour later he opened up a blog: [johnwatsonblog.co.uk.](http://johnwatsonblog.co.uk/) Laughing he closed the laptop again and made himself a cup of tea. Stupid! 

“Rubbish!”, he mumbled before he once more looked through the job section of the local papers.

Around midday he once more opened his laptop and wrote a new post in his blog containing one word only:  _ Nothing. _

Watson also tried the next day and seriously considered writing about his life and write down his thoughts – like a diary. But he shoved the thought away as fast as it had occurred.  So he wrote a second post he named “ _ Pointless _ ” and wrote one sentence:  _ Nothing happens to me. _ This was  ridiculous and useless. What had he thought while starting this?


	8. Chapter 8

_ Christmas _

Christmas had always been a weird time for the two brothers. None of them had celebrated it a lot and they also had no idea how to deal with the family gatherings. He lay in his bed, listening to a concert. First, he didn’t hear the knocking so he was surprised by his brother stepping inside and sitting beside him on the bed, listening to the concert as well. It was wonderful. Then the younger one hit the pause-button on the remote and looked at his brother in anticipation.

“Bach?”, the older one said and the young one nodded. 

“What are you doing here?”

He sounded more dismissive than he had wanted to.

“I have an important Christmas dinner tonight. Please promise me you won’t do anything stupid while I’m away.”

“Why should I?”, he asked bored.

“I don’t know. Mummy invited us for tomorrow. I promised her that we would both show up.”

“When do we have to be there?”, he only asked accepting his faith.

“About 3pm.”

“Alright, I’ll be there.”

“Do you have any plans for tonight?”

“No.”

“What would you think of a nice brunch tomorrow?”

He asked himself what his brother wanted that he invited him for brunch but he accepted nonetheless. Happy that his younger brother had accepted he once more vanished and got ready for dinner. 

As soon as his older brother had left the house, he got more unsettled. He was bored and that had always been bad. He was clean for nearly eight months now, but his boredom didn’t make it easier for him to stay away from the drugs. He needed help so he pulled his phone out of his pocket and called the DI.

“What’s up?”, he asked from the other end of the phone.

“I need a case! Anything! I’m dying of boredom!”

The DI laughed softly and the other one heard  paper rustling in the background. 

“I only have some old things on my desk. Give me a moment...”

He heard more rustling and some silent swears of the DI. After a couple of  minutes, he apparently had found what he had been looking for.

“Ah, perfect! I got a robbery. Well more a series of robberies. The same jewellery stores and antiquity stores had been robbed. But always after they were back on their feet again. And the only thing that got robbed were diamonds but none of the missing pieces had shown up on the market again. All the stolen diamonds stay missing.” The DI stayed silent for a moment. “Nearly as in James Bond”, he chuckled then and the young man rolled his eyes at the other end of the phone.

“I’ll come over and have a look at it”, he then promised. 

The rest of the day they spend together in the office of the DI and worked on some old and unsolved cases he often worked out in minutes by only reading the file. But the case of the missing diamonds stayed a  mystery even to him.

Unsure John stood in front of James’ house. He didn’t ring the bell or knocked. Instead he stood on the opposite side of the road under the shadow of a large tree and looked into the illuminated living room window. He saw someone moving up and down. He watched the shadows and memories of his first Christmas in Afghanistan welled up.

_ John and the others sat together in the huge kitchen tent and were looking forward for their Christmas dinner the cook had prepared for them. It was nearly a feast. John wandered through the lines of his comrades when he reached their table and sat down. They celebrated exuberantly and they told stories from home. _

_ “My fiancée wrote!”, one of the young men said. “She found a wedding dress. She sends me a picture.” _

_ Proudly he presented the picture to his comrades. _

_ “She looks gorgeous!”, the other men agreed. _

_ Even John wished him all the best and complimented him on his girlfriend.  _

_ “My sister got her baby!”, another one said after a while. “A little girl. I’m officially an uncle now with a lovely nice.” _

_ The men raised their glasses and cheered. It was a happy evening with lots of stories of home. But John had nothing to tell. It was late when he left his comrades and headed to his tent. The night was cooler than usual and the camp looked deserted in the dark. He decided to look after the injured soldiers once again before he would head to sleep. Everyone was well according to the circumstances. He took some files and left into the night again. _

_ “You shouldn’t work at an evening like this”, a familiar voice said a few feet away. “You should celebrate with the others instead. It’s Christmas after all.” _

_ A man stepped out of the shadows and he saw that it was Major Sholto. _

_ “Sir”, he greeted formally and readjusted his posture. _

_ He was stunned to see him here. They haven’t had any contact since the lecture at his  _ _ uni _ _ when he was still a student. _

_ “As I can see you managed to make your dream come true”, Sholto said calmly and stepped closer. _

_ “Sir?”, John asked confused because he had no idea what he meant. _

_ “You told me you wanted to participate in the field. The time we met at your university. Now you are here.” _

_ “Yes, Sir.” _

_ “Do you like it here?”, Sholto wanted to know and stepped closer once more. _

_ “Yes Sir.” _

_ “That’s good.” _

_ For a few moments they stayed silent and it made John nervous. Sholto scrutinized him and smiled softly before he left again. _

_ “Don’t work  _ _ too _ _ hard Doctor Watson. Enjoy the calm and Christmas.” _

_ “Thank  _ _ you, Sir _ _.” _

It had been completely crazy how they had met and how their first Christmas had turned out. The second one had been way better, John remembered sadly.

_ John sat with his colleagues in the hospital tent and they celebrated with a few bottles of wine and Whiskey from home. He was tipsy when he stepped outside into the cool night air to smoke. He didn’t do it often and mostly after he had been drinking. _

_ “Merry Christmas”, he heard someone by his side who stepped closer. _

_ It was Major Sholto. Surprised to see him here, John looked at him. He knew he had been stationed here to teach some new recruits but would have never thought he would show up to their party. _

_ “Merry Christmas, Sir”, he said as well and lit up the cigarette.  _

_ “May I?”, James asked and gestured to the cigarette John handed him. “Gosh, what a day”, he sighed and put the fag between his lips. _

_ “Sir?” _

_ “My dad died a few days ago. I just got the news.” _

_ “I’m sorry to hear that Sir. My condolences.” _

_ “He had his 70 _ _ th _ _ birthday a few weeks ago”, he said with a sad smile. _

_ “Wait here Sir”, John said and stepped back into the tent. _

_ James hadn’t even finished the cigarette when John stepped outside again, a bottle of Whiskey and two glasses in his hand. Asking Sholto looked at him, smiled and nodded. The two men silently made their way through the dark to Sholto’s tent. He lit up a small lamp and John looked around curiously. It was the same as his tent, there was no difference. _

_ “Please have a seat”, Sholto gestured to the folding cot John now sat on while pouring them both a glass of the golden liqueur.  _

_ John handed the Major a glass while he sat beside the Doctor. _

_ “To your father Sir”, John said and they clinked glasses. _

_ “To my father”, he agreed and they sipped from the liqueur. “Please call me James”, he then added and John smiled happily. _

_ They emptied the bottle and told old stories from their families and home. John laughed after James had finished with one and then took another sip. They were both drunk now. James looked at the Doctor for a long time before he leaned closer and kissed him. Surprised John startled for a moment before he kissed him back.  _

_ “Ok?”, James asked after their lips separated for a moment. _

_ John simply nodded and pulled him closer while he reunited their lips greedily. James’ hands slipped under his uniform and pulled it off while he shoved him down on the tiny bed, kissing him more urgently. John moaned into their kiss while Sholto’s hands slipped to his trousers and to his belt to open it. Then he stopped for a moment, looking at the younger man. John knew that they shouldn’t do this but he didn’t care. He pulled him closer and kissed the Major again and they continued. A loud and surprised moan escaped him when James’ hands found their destination. _

_ “Oh god...” _

_ “Sch... Not too loud”, James mumbled and smiled broadly before he continued. _

_ John’s hands grabbed his shoulders and he buried his hands in his neck while James speed his movements up. Once more John moaned lustfully, bit his lip though to keep the volume down. James laughed before John’s hands made their way to his trousers as well. Sholto withhold himself and looked John in the eye while he continued. His breathing quickened and when he was about to come, he grabbed the Doctors wrists and held him down and shoved him on the bed fully. Their looks where intense, heated and wanting. Then Sholto took them both in his hand and moved while speeding up, kissing John over and over until both climaxed. _

It hurt him to think about it. The realisation that he still loved James hurt him more than expected. It once more started to snow and the temperatures were dropping rapidly. Once more he looked to the illuminated window. There was a second shadow now that stepped closer and they got one before the shadows vanished from John’s sight. Without realising it, a tear rolled down his cheek. Angry he limped away, wanting to go back to his flat. He was only gone a few metres when he slipped and fell. Cursing and in heavy pain he slowly got up. It was more complicated than anticipated and only now he realised that his body slowly gave up on him. His leg was worse than ever and the cold didn’t help either. The pain in his shoulder was nasty when he got up and slowly headed to the tube. Bloody hell! He was old and broken, useless, as doctor and as human being. Even therapy didn’t help. He still had severe feelings of guilt towards James’ condition. He felt miserable, alone and the pain got worse while he made his way home. But what good would it do to be there? Then he remembered himself, that it would be better than watching James and wandering through the streets.

It was late at night and he still sat over the files of the diamond  robberies with the DI who just returned with two cups of coffee.

“Thanks”, he mumbled when the DI put one in front of him, slipped out of his jacket and tiredly sat in his office chair. “It’s strange”, the then continued. “Why should someone only steal the diamonds only to keep them? It doesn’t make any sense. It would be quite more logical to sell them after they were stollen.”

“Maybe - like in the James Bond movie – they want to evoke a price collapse as soon as they’ll flood the market? It would harm the merchant and the jeweller, including the government. I assume they also trade in these kinds of business”, Lestrade said while he was slumped back in his chair, sipping on his coffee.

The young man looked at him and wanted to say something sarcastic towards the DI when he finally realised his mistake.

“Yeah, I know”, the DI interrupted his thought. “It’s completely insane and only a movie.”

“No!”, he shouted out unexpectedly. “It’s brilliant and the only logical explanation. We need more information! All the cases during the last years that were similar to this one. Best would be all from Europe.”

“Do you have any idea how long this is  going to take?!”, the DI said shocked.

“I’ve all night”, the younger man said and smiled while rolling up the sleeves of his purple shirt.


	9. Chapter 9

It was late when John returned home, completely soaked. He unlocked the door and stepped into his dark flat. Alone... He slipped out of his jacket and tossed it on the chair by his desk without caring. Swearing, since he was still in pain from his fall, he slipped out of his wet clothes and naked underneath the cool sheets. He had gotten into a heavy snowstorm halfway home from the tube station. John just hoped that he wouldn’t catch a cold. But then he didn’t really care at all about it. His shoulder still hurt like hell so he turned to his other side and it got a bit better as soon as he relieved the pressure a bit. He could hear his neighbours celebrating, laughing and loud music through the thin walls. Closing his eyes, he tried to drown out the noise but his mind always wandered back to the shadow in James’ house. He was sure they had kissed. Apparently, James haven’t had any problem with moving on and forget him. It hurt John to, think about it. They have had so many plans. As soon as they were back, they had wanted to look for a house outside of London. John had wanted to teach while James had wanted to keep training new recruits. They even had agreed on getting a puppy and maybe adopt one day. It had been a crazy idea of them to want to start a simple normal life together. A life with the man he had loved. John should have known that it wouldn’t work. Nothing in his life had ever really worked how he had wanted it. The only thing he had achieved had been to become a doctor and even this was taken away from him now. He knew that it wouldn’t do any good to linger in the past. Everyone had told him that and Ella even did so with every session. But what would the future hold? Was there even a future? A future worth living? He had lost everything he had loved and had no idea how to go on at all...

Early the next morning his phone interrupted his thoughts and he quickly picked up. The DI had fallen asleep on his desk and so he quickly stepped outside the office to take the call and not to wake him. 

“Yes?”

“Are you okay?”, he heard his brother at the other end of the line. “You haven’t been at home over night. Where are you?”

“I’m working. What do you want?”, he asked annoyed.

“I just wanted to remind you of our lunch”, said his brother stiffly. “But if you’re too busy, we can postpone it of course.”

“Sure...”, he said distracted and looked at a note in his hand.

“Don’t forget the dinner with Mum and Dad.”

“Yes, alright..”

Without any greeting he hung up and stepped back into the office. Somewhere here was the clue where the diamonds where hidden and what was the connection but he couldn’t find it. Desperate and angrily he shoved the papers off the table what woke the DI.

“What’s going on?”, he asked sleepily. “Is everything alright?”

His look fell onto the young man that held his head in his hands and ruffled his curly hair. The young man jumped up and paced the room while he told the DI what he had found. Then the young man fell silent. They had a lot of unsolved cases like this, all over the last two years. There were only a few CCTV videos and no evidence at all. There also had been a case of a robbery in Paris where the owner had surprised the thieves and got shot. All cases had the same pattern and all witnesses had told the police the same about the thieves. Yet there was no lead. No lead to where the diamonds where hidden.

“But what if”, the DI started and had a sip of coffee. “What if the diamonds had never really been hidden?”

“How should that work?”, he asked. “It’s absurd. Where should they be then? In a safe deposit-box? Still in the places they had been taken from?”

“Well... We had some cases where the theft was still there....”

“The theft never left the country!”, the young one shouted excited and finally understood. “Of course! The theft had to be near to grab them if necessary. This only works with a deposit-box. But the amount of diamonds would arise suspicion.  So they separated it and split it under various persons”, the younger one concluded.

“Yes!”, the DI said and jumped up.

“We have to talk to the banks. There has to be a clue!”

_ He was back in Afghanistan. It was hot, dusty and he was on a deployment. He could hear shooting and he ran past some people while he ran to the village square. He kept calling for James. He had to be here. He had told him that he would be here today. John stumbled over some bodies and fell into the dirt. He stumbled up again and hurried further down the streets and into an old, abandoned house where he stumbled once more over a body. He could see the blond hair of the man. Carefully he turned him over and saw into the blood covered and hurt face of James. His clothes where bloody and half burned. John tried to wake him, but it wouldn’t work. He tried to reanimate him but he had no luck either. When he looked back into James’ face, he could see that it wasn’t James but one of his comrades who had died on his table while he had tried to save his life. John stumbled up again and wanted to leave the house. He cried and called after James when he went down by a shot and fell on the ground. It hurt. Then James stepped by his side. Weapon in hand. _

_ “It’s for the best, John....”, he said quietly and smiled softly at him.  _ _ ”Only _ _ for your best, believe me.” _

Covered in sweat and in pain, John woke up. He was crying and turned on the light at the bedside table with shaking hands. He wiped his tears away angrily and tried to calm down. It was just a dream, nothing more... Panting and with beating heart he sank back into the pillows and looked up to the ceiling. For the rest of the night John lay awake in his bed and thought about his dream. Early at morning, he got up and limped to the kitchen to grab a glass of water and some pain killers. When he saw the package of pills his thoughts drifted. It would be so easy.... No, he couldn’t. Not like this. Shoving the thought away he sat at his desk and opened the first drawer to get his laptop. Before he closed it, his look lingered on his old weapon. No one had realised that it was gone. To be honest, John had no idea why he had taken it with him in the first place. Without thinking about it more, he closed the drawer and opened his blog. In his thoughts he starred at the screen for the next hours. 

It was late when he got up and poured himself a drink. It was Christmas, he realised. For a moment he thought if he should see Harry and Clara and accept their invitation, but he wouldn’t be good company.

Dinner at their parents was calm and the mostly left him alone. He didn’t eat much but stayed until Mycroft got them home. He received some presents that were now sitting on the table in the kitchen while he sat in an armchair, the violin his therapist had introduced him to, on his lap, softly tapping the strings. His mind tried to calm down, but he once more had to think about the eyes. He hadn’t found them. His brother had no clue and there was no trace of them. It was late and he was sure that he wouldn’t find any trace tonight but he still had to get out. His mid was restless, so was his body. He got up, wrapped in his coat and left the house for a walk. His mind got him to his old flat and then back to the park where he had seen the eyes a second time. He hoped that he would see them due to a coincidence, but he had no luck so he simply kept wondering around London to busy his mind and keep away from the drugs. Easier said than done, he thought while he moved past some junkies in a dingy looking part of the docks.


	10. Chapter 10

_ New Year’s Eve _

“How are you feeling John?”, Ella asked that afternoon when he once more sat in the armchair opposite her. 

“I’m okay”, he lied easily. 

She made a note but stayed silent for a moment. John watched her. 

“Have you talked to your old boyfriend? Maybe he can help with how you’re feeling at the moment.”

“And how am I feeling?”, he asked since he  hadn't told her anything.

“You feel betrayed and alone. I started some investigation about why you came here and about your old life. I think I do understand why you are this angry.”

“You had no right to sniff around and make any assumption about my life!”, John now shouted. “None at all!”

“John, I’m trying to help you. Your condition’s getting worse. Your doctor told me that your shoulder...”

“Damn my shoulder! Damn this whole therapy session! I’m done with this!”

He stood up, grabbed his cane and coat and left Ella’s office. She shouted his name but he didn’t care. In the waiting room he bumped into a man he knew all too well. James. Surprised he looked at Sholto and startled for a moment.

“I got Mr Sholto here so we could talk together. He wants to help”, Ella explained since she had followed him. 

“John, I’m sorry...”, James started but John didn’t want to hear it.

He shoved him away and hurried outside as fast as he could, crying and feeling betrayed once more. He could hear James following him, but he made it to the next tube in time and he was gone. Out of reach. Sadness and anger clouded his judgement and it was late when he got home drunk once more. He stumbled into his flat and onto the bed. He would never go back to her. Not after everything that had happened today. She betrayed his trust, invaded his privacy without his full consent and getting James there... Seeing the man he had loved, had made him miss the other soldier even more. Still there had been the pain and distrust he now felt whenever he saw him. He had promised himself to stop lingering in the past and forget him. Forget everything they have had. John once more stumbled up and to the kitchenette to grab the bottle of Whiskey he had stored in one of the cabinets and continued drinking on the cold dark floor, looking out of the small window, mind foggy from his feelings and the booze and his old gun beside him...

Everyone seemed to celebrate that there was a new year coming. For him it was just another boring night. A sober night. The young man sighed and looked up from his experiment. It was nearly midnight and the fireworks would start soon. Even though he didn’t like to celebrate, he always watched those because they reminded him of his childhood and better times. The young man slipped into some warm clothes before he grabbed his coat and was off into the night. He needed to distract himself a bit as well, so he took a long walk through the park before he wandered off to the rooftops of St. Barts to watch the fireworks around the city. The clock showed midnight and the fireworks started.

“Happy New Year London”, he said calmly and more to himself. 

He had no idea what the new year would bring or how he would go on after everything. He knew he shouldn’t give into the drugs. But he craved a shot or at least a joint!  So he made his way to Billy and asked him and he got some. Immediately he rolled himself a joint and started smoking. Gosh, the feeling of calmness was there a moment later and it felt good. More relaxed he made his way home and through the park. Late in the morning – he had completely forgot the time while walking through London – he arrived at his brother’s place. Without reason, he headed into his study and grabbed himself a drink before he slumped into the comfortable chair behind the desk. He was high and slightly drunk when he saw it. A file labelled with his name. Curious he took it and looked into it. There where pictures of him during the last years, names of his contacts and there was a small envelope labelled with some initials. J.H.W. What was this? He took the envelope and looked into it. There was a second file. But everything important like the name and address was blacked out. But there where pictures and Sherlock immediately realised who it was. It was the man with the blue eyes! So Mycroft had found him after all! And he had lied to him! Anger welled up inside him and he wanted to head up and talk to his brother when he saw him standing in the door.

“What are you doing?”, his older brother asked when he saw that he had the file in his hands.

“You found him”, he said.

“Who?”

“The blue eyes.” His brother stayed silent but stepped closer. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“He’s no good for you.”

“It’s still my decision!”, he shouted now.

“But I swore to protect you!”, his brother shouted back. “And besides, what would you do? Talk to him? Get to know him?” He laughed. “Don’t be stupid brother. This is insane.”

He felt hurt and shocked and without thinking he hurried outside, shoving his brother angrily away, heading upstairs and locking himself into his old room.

The next days stayed the same. He avoided his brother and tried to find out more about J.H.W., the man with his blue eyes. But he failed. It was nearly impossible to find him without his brother’s resources. Yet he tried to get some information from his homeless network he had built up. It was late when he wandered around the streets of London when someone shouted his name. He turned to the voice of an old lady that was very familiar. 

“Nice to see you dear. How have you been?”, she asked and hugged him unexpectedly.

“I’m fine, thank you. How are you?”

“ Oh.. You know dear”, the old lady sighed. “Getting old. It’s pretty lonely now that the nice young man moved out from the flat above mine. I’d prefer it if someone would move into it again.”

“ So you’re renting the flat above yours?”, he asked curious.

“Oh yes dear. Do you know someone?”

“I would be interested”, he said honestly. “I moved to my brother temporarily. But I’d like to have my own place again.”

“But that’s brilliant dear!”, the old lady said. “If you like you can move in immediately.”

“Really?”, he asked and she nodded. “That’s fantastic! I’ll be there tomorrow then we can discuss the details.”

They parted a few minutes later both quite happy how things had turned out. He knew her from an old case concerning her husband. He had helped her then. She had also been very nice to him back then when he was in trouble and high as a kite. She had helped and understood him. Now he also had a place. Perfect! A bit more positive about the future, he made his way home, to pack his things. When his brother got home and found him packing his stuff, he asked him surprised what he was doing. Smiling he looked at his older brother.

“I’m moving out.”

The next day he moved into the flat and finally felt free again. It was a nice place and finally his own again. Now he could finally concentrate fully on finding the blue eyes.


	11. Chapter 11

John woke up with a headache to the ringing of the doorbell. He heard James shout his name outside his flat, hammering against the door. He ignored him and after a while the other man seemed to give up. John had no energy to do anything. He just sat on the floor and closed his eyes, drifting back to sleep after a while and another restless night full of nightmares. The next days stayed the same. John stayed home, slept, drank, had a bite of food now and then – even though he wasn’t particularly hungry – and he ignored the calls of his therapist, the visits from Sholto and anyone else. He tried to write on his blog but the only thing he manged was a small post about how to delete the post itself on 20 th January. John couldn’t see the point in all this and when things got calmer again, he started to head to a walk on a daily basis. Around the park, around the city. No clue why he was back there, he stood in front of Ellas and after a moment headed inside. She was surprised to see him but didn’t say anything about his behaviour or why he was back. She just let him in, made them a cup of tea and he sat opposite her on his usual place while both waited. John knew he needed to apologise, needed to tell her why he was here, but he had no clue. She just waited until he would start talking and to her surprise he did after a while.

“I came to apologise”, John mumbled. “It wasn't right, shouting at you since you just want to help. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. I know it wasn’t very professional inviting your ex-boyfriend to the last session.”

“You just wanted to help”, he said again more convincing himself than her.

“What do you say about a fresh start John?”

“Yes, I’d like that”, he agreed and finally  started to talk a bit when she asked him.

The next day he wanted to write in his blog, he only wrote a very annoyed blog post called “Happy now?”, where he asked Ella if she was happy that he wrote his blog after they had a pretty heated conversation about  it last night during his first session back. She had urged him to continue even if he didn’t see the point in it. But he had promised after all, trying to go forward and show her that he wanted to make progress. Deep inside John knew that his trying would fail though. He would go back to the depressed mess he had been a few weeks and days before. Yet he tried so hard, not even knowing why. 

Three days late he met some of his old rugby mates from Blackheath while strolling through the streets and agreed to have drinks with them. It was a calm night and he actually enjoyed himself a bit. No one of his old mates mentioned his leg and they drowned pints like when they were young what lead to a heavy headache the next day for John. When he wrote the events of last night down in his blog the next day, his therapist commented if he had missed their appointment because of it but he ignored her message. He wasn’t in the mood to talk to her today. Not after last night, when he had seen how things could have been if he just hadn’t gone out into the field that day. John soon realised that the meeting with his old mates didn’t help with his mental state at all but like usual he ignored it.

His search for the blue eyes didn’t went on like he had wished. He couldn’t find any indication on the man himself. Nothing worked. Not even his homeless network. Frustrated he was kind of happy when one day the DI showed up and pulled him out of his dark thoughts with a new case. A kidnapping of some inventor. It was solved quite quickly and they headed on to the next case. Things continued like this but yet he still got easily bored when he was between cases. And boredom made the old temptations come back. He craved for some. He needed some! It was late on a Saturday when he grabbed his jacket and wandered through the streets. He ended up in one of the houses he knew and got a gram of heroin. Quite euphoric he walked back to the flat, locked himself in and got the small package out. Turning it in his hands, waiting. Deciding if this was right. But the urge was too permanent. He needed it. In quite the haste he grabbed his old needles he had hidden under a loose floorboard under the bed and rolled up his sleeve. The usual excitement got a hold of him and his hand started to shake. He had to calm down if he wanted to do this right. After a few minutes he managed and slowly let the liquid flow into his veins. Just a bit. The effect set in immediately. The familiar rush. The familiar calmness. 

John sticked to the writing of his blog, even if it was just some thoughts about current events like the serial suicides he had read about in the newspaper. It was the end of January when he had another appointment with his therapist. 29 th January. And this day should change his life forever, yet John had no idea when he met up with Ella. Like usual he was defensive and just talked the most necessary things with her. He just hoped that their meeting would end soon. 

“How’s your blog going?”, she then asked.

“Good”, he lied. 

“You haven’t written a word, have you?”

“You wrote that I still have trust issues”, he said to distract her from this.

“And you’re reading my writing upside down. You see what I mean?” He stayed silent. “You’re a soldier who returned from war. It will help if you take this blog writing seriously. It well help you to cope with everything that has happened to you.”

“Nothing happens to me”, he grumbled defensive and hoped to get out soon.

A while later the appointment was over and he wanted to make his way back home. But since it was quite a lovely day, he decided against it. His leg hurt, yet he had to sort his thoughts and he could do this best with a walk. The day was sunnier and warmer than the last weeks and he quite enjoyed himself. It was then, when he heard someone shout his name.

“John? John Watson?!”

He turned to the voice that belonged to a middle-aged guy with glasses, dark hair and a big tummy. Confused John looked at the man who put his newspaper in his bag, got up from the park bench and stepped closer.

“Stamford. Mike Stamford”, he introduced himself. “We were at Barts together.”   
“Oh yes... Mike”, he said, slowly remembering. “Hello.”

“I know, I got fat”, the other man joked and John laughed and smiled at his old friend. 

Both of them shook hands and Stamford let his eyes wander over John. Saw the cane, his limp and the dark circles under his eyes and the light scruff on his cheeks. 

"I heard you where somewhere abroad, getting shot at. What happened?”

“I got shot”, John said darkly, feeling slightly uncomfortable by the presence of the other man. 

Immediately Stamford felt uncomfortable about what he had said and looked away. John scrutinized him. He did get chubby. Wore grey trousers, plaided shirt and a hideous three coloured stripped tie. Grey blazer, beige trench coat and broad rimmed glasses. His face was reddened which was either because of the cold or because of too high blood  pressure , John thought. 

“Want some coffee?”, Stamford then asked and John agreed so they grabbed some coffee nearby and once more retired to the bench.

“Still at Barts?”, John asked curious now after a while of silence.

“Teaching”, Stamford said. “Bright young things like we used to be. God, I hate them”, he joked and John did smile a bit.

He remembered Mike. They had been good friends at Barts, had even promised to write regularly and stay in contract but nothing had happened as the two of them had planned apparently. 

“What about you?”, Mike asked. “Staying in town? Sorting things out?”

“I can’t afford London on an army pension”, John admitted while he thought about the stacks of final notices that  were lying in his flat.

He knew he was behind with the payments, couldn’t seem to afford even this tiny appartement for longer. 

“Ahhh... But you couldn’t bear to be anywhere else”, Mike said knowingly. “That’s not the John Watson I know.”

“Yeah. I’m not that John Watson anymore”, he agreed, admitting that he had changed to himself for the first time since he had come back from war.’   
Nothing was the same. He wasn’t the same anymore. They stayed silent for a moment, sipping on their coffee. John’s hand started to tremble and he tried to get it under control, getting more and more angry with himself again.

“Couldn’t Harry help?”

“Yeah, as if that’s going to happen”, John said sarcastically, shoving the thought away. 

“I don’t know. Maybe you could get a flat share or something?”, Mike then suggested and John laughed.

“Come on, who’d want me for a flat mate?”

His thoughts about his future got dark again and his mood got worse by the minute. He shouldn’t have said yes to a coffee with Mike. Stamford chuckled and smiled

“What?”, John said a bit angrily and Mike looked at him.

“You’re the second person to say that to me today”, Mike confessed smiling.

“Who was the first?”, John asked curiously and Mike smiled even broader.

“Come on, I’ll introduce you.”

They headed to Barts Hospital and made it downstairs to the labs. John was curious about who would be the one who had said that he was also problematic for a flat mate. While they headed downstairs, he looked around. Everything seemed to have changed over the last years after he had finished his training here. They entered a small lab at the end of the corridor and John once more looked around, immediately seeing a young man at the huge table, looking into a microscope. Mike stood opposite the man by the  table , while John stayed by the door.

“Bit different from my days”, he said to Mike and looked at all the technical stuff in the lab. 

He looked up when Mike Stamford entered the lab. He had been deep in his thoughts about a case he and the DI worked on, yet he also still felt the heroine in his blood. He was agitated and needed to work or his mind would go nuts. He looked up when the other man who had  accompanied Stamford spoke.

“Bit different from my days.”

Sherlock felt as if he had been hit by a truck. It where those blue eyes! The blue eyes he had been looking for, for months now! He didn’t know what to say or how to react? Would faith definitely work for him this time? Could it be that after all this trouble of finding him, he now stood in the tiny office and no other than Mike Stamford had gotten him to him? He quickly scrutinized the man. He had a cane and had limped, but now stood completely still, looking at him as well. He was older than he remembered, his hair a colourful mess of light grey and blonde. Scruffy cheeks, unkempt hair. Dark circles under his eyes. He looked tired and unsure about being here. Oh god! He could barely keep it together at the sight of the other man. Happy to have finally found the eyes!

“Mike, can I borrow your phone?”, he asked to distract himself and because he really had to text the DI.

“What’s with the landline?”, Mike asked and smiled.

“I prefer to text”, he admitted.

“Sorry, it’s in my coat”, Mike said apologetically. 

“Use mine”, the other man said, scrutinizing him when he got up and took it. 

The older man looked at him and smiled a bit. Yet he could sense the sadness. He had to find out more about the man who was clearly a doctor since he had been trained at Barts. He had to impress him. Make friends with him. Make him stay.

“This is an old friend of mine. John Watson”, Mike explained when the young man got closer, still scrutinizing John curiously.

“Afghanistan or Iraq?”, he then asked when he took the phone in his hand, their fingers brushing for a second.

The other man blushed a bit and yet looked confused at him. He quickly typed his text while John looked to Stamford who only smiled broadly, looking at them.

“Afghanistan”, he then said. “Sorry, how did you...?”

He stayed silent and handed him the phone again, returning to his microscope for a moment. A young woman interrupted them and handed the young man with the dark curls a cup of coffee.

“Ah Molly! Coffee. Thank you”, he stammered and took the mug, turning away again. 

The young woman seemed sad about it and left. Apparently, she had a thing for the young man with the sharp cheekbones and good looks. John couldn’t hold it against her. He was good looking, he thought but shoved the thought away. After the whole mess with James, he didn’t want to get involved in anything for the next time.

“How do you feel about the violin?”, the young man asked out of the blue.

“Sorry?”

“I play the violin. I sometimes don’t talk for days”, he said. “Potential flatmates should know the worst about each other, right?”

“Sorry, what?”

John was seriously confused about the younger man. What was going on? How did he know so much about him? Had Mike told him? But that was impossible, he had only been to the loo for a moment earlier. Ther simply was not time how Mike and this man – whoever he was – cold have talked.

“Have you told him about me?”, he asked Stamford a bit angry. 

“Not a word.”

“Then why are you”, he said to the younger man, “talking about being flatmates?”

“I told Mike this morning, that it would be impossible to find someone to share a flat with. Yet here he is, fresh from lunch with an old friend. A friend who apparently is in need of a flat share because he only recently returned from military service.”

What the fuck? John tried to control his temper. This was insane yet he was stunned by the young man. Who was he and how did he know all this? 

“How did you know about Afghanistan?”, he asked and the younger one smiled softly.

“I have this beautiful flat in Central London. We could afford it together”, he distracted the other man. “Let’s meet up tomorrow evening, 7 o’clock.” He grabbed his coat, slipping in, trying to contain his happiness. “Gotta dash.”

“Is that it?”, the army doctor said when he was by the door already, wanting to go out to find out more about the man.

The young one turned around and looked once more at him. John felt stripped bare. Felt as if the man knew everything with only one look. 

“We only just met and we’re going to look at a flat?”, John asked confused.

The younger one stepped closer again which made John quite nervous. He had stunning  eyes John realised when he looked into them. They weren’t blue nor green but like the ocean, changing colours.

“Problem?”, the young one asked smiling a bit.

“We don’t know anything about each other. I don’t know where we’re meeting. I don’t even know your name or who you are.”

“I know enough about you”, the young one smiled down at John. “I think that’s enough about going on, don’t you think?”

He wanted to shout at this arrogant man. Ask him how this could be enough. His hand started to shake again and he tried to control it. Feeling not intimidated by the young man who was now hovering over him, looking into John’s blue eyes and smiling softly. He smelled of cigarettes, aftershave and a very own scent, John couldn’t figure out. It was intoxicating. Stamford felt uncomfortable and cleared his throat what made them both come back to the here and now. The young man stepped to the door and opened it.

“The name’s Sherlock Holmes and the address  is 221B, Baker Street”, he said, winked and left in a hurry.


	12. Chapter 12

“What the fuck”, John breathed, staring at the spot the young man had vanished. 

“He’s always like that”, Stamford explained and concerned looked at his old friend.

“He’s strange.”

“He is. But he’s quite alright if you get to know him.”

The two of them left and John soon made his way home after a few more words with Mike. He wanted to find out more about the mysterious young man. Exhausted from today’s events he sank on his bed and looked around. His wound hurt and he was tired. Yet curiosity got the better of him and he got up, getting rid of his jacket and starting his laptop. Then he typed in two words. Sherlock Holmes. 

For the rest of the night, he looked up the young man he had met at Barts today. And then he wrote a blog post about the strange meeting. About his thoughts. About the man called Sherlock Holmes.

Sherlock made his way back to Baker Street, he would soon share with John Watson. The blue eyes! He still couldn’t believe how lucky he had got today. He finally had found him. He immediately got to work and tried to find out more about the doctor but he had no luck. It was frustrating and yet he was thrilled. He heard someone coming upstairs and turned to see who it was. His mood darkened when he saw it was his brother. 

“What do you want?”

He was still angry that his brother had lied to him about John Watson. 

“I came to look how you are”, his brother said and sat in the grey leather armchair by the fireplace.

“I’m fine. Thanks, you can go now”, Sherlock said.

His brother laughed and crossed his legs, leaning back in the armchair. He knew that he didn’t want to leave quite so soon and sighed, sitting down in the other armchair.

“How are you brother?”

“As I said, I’m good”, Sherlock said again, still angry.

“You can’t be still angry”, his brother said. “This is childish. And what would you do if you find him?”

“That’s entirely my own problem”, he said. “I told you to leave me alone.”

“Sherlock...”

“No! Leave me alone. I don’t want you to interfere in my life anymore! And now get the fuck out of my flat!”

His brother held up his hands defensively and got up.

“If you need me just call.”

“Never happening”, Sherlock said and his brother left him alone again.

He spend the evening looking for more information on John Watson but still he couldn’t find anything. He was quite excited the next day and did his best to leave a good impression. He was on the road for another case and was late when he got back to Baker Street. He could see John already waiting by the door. Quickly he got out of the cab, paid and stepped to John. Beaming.

“Ah, Mr Holmes”, John said and stretched out his hand. 

“Sherlock, please.”

John smiled and he knocked at the door to 221B.

“Nice spot”, John said and looked around.

“Yes.”

“Must be expensive.”

“Oh Mrs Hudson the landlady is an old friend. I helped her a few years back when her husband was sentenced to death in Florida.”

“Oh so you helped her stop it?”

“Oh no, I ensured it”, he said and at that moment their conversation was stopped by an old woman in a purple dress opening the door, looking quite happy to see them.

“Sherlock!”, she said and hugged him tightly.

“Mrs Hudson”, he said. “This is Doctor John Watson.”

“So nice to see you. Come on in!”, she said after shaking hands with John and guided them upstairs.

Sherlock was waiting for him while he climbed up the stairs, silently cursing his leg and body that let him down these days. The younger one opened the door and showed him in. The sitting-/living room was cramped and yet he loved it after a few looks around.

“This is quite nice.”

“Yes, I thought so too....”

“We just have to get rid of some boxes.”

“...so I moved in already.”

“Oh... Sorry.”

“No, it’s fine I.... I can straighten things up, a bit.”

Sherlock shuffled some papers around and John smiled a bit before he sat in the plaided, old, comfortable looking armchair. 

“Sherlock, look at all this mess!”, Mrs Hudson said when she stepped inside a moment later. “There is a second bedroom upstairs if you two will be needing one”, she said while putting up a few cups from the table in the living room.

“Of course, we’ll be needing two”, John said confused and Sherlock grinned when he turned around for a moment, getting the mail on the mantelpiece. 

“Oh don’t worry love, we got all sorts around here. Mrs Turner next door got married ones.”

She headed to the kitchen that was a mess as well. John was confused by Mrs Hudson's response to him showing up here. Was the younger man gay? Well John assumed so if she said it like this. He hadn’t expected it though. He looked around, watching the younger man, brabble something about rent and stuff. John didn’t listen.

“Sherlock. Aren’t these suicides interesting?”, Mrs Hudson said when she had the newspaper in her hand. “This seems right up your area. Three suicides”, she read aloud.

“Four, he said while looking out of the window where a police car pulled up. 

A moment later a man got upstairs and directly addressed Sherlock. 

“What is new with this one?”

“This one left a note”, the man said and waited impatiently. “Will you come?”

Sherlock nodded and the man waited for him but he smiled.

“Not in a police car, I’ll come by later.”

The man nodded and hurried outside again. Who was that? Then Sherlock smiled like a madman.

“Yes! Another murder, isn’t that lovely?!”, he shouted while grabbing his coat and scarf.

“John, make yourself at home. Don’t wait up. Mrs Hudson, will you make our guest a cup of tea? And maybe some dinner?”

“Not your housekeeper!”, she shouted from the kitchen and he was off. 

John was confused by what had just been going on and still was in the armchair, looking at the door where Sherlock had left. He picked up the newspaper Mrs Hudson had abandoned at the side table of his chair and looked at the front page who showed a summary of the serial suicides and the latest press conference. Ther also was a picture of the man who had just been there. DI Gregory Lestrade. Apparently, he was in charge of the investigation.

“Looking at him, all excited because of a new case”, the landlady said and returned into the sitting room. “You’re calmer though, I can tell. Rest your leg, I’ll make a cup of tea.”

John grumbled, angry that he stayed behind. Angry, that he was threatened like he was fragile and would break. He tossed the papers on the small table and buried his head in his hands. Signing frustrated.

“You were an army doctor”, he heard Sherlock’s deep voice again and looked up.

“Yes.”

“Seen a lot of injuries. Violent deaths?”

“Yes.”

“Any good?”

“Very good.”

“Want to see some more?”, the younger one asked and smiled softly.

“Oh God yes!”, John said and got up, slipping into his jacket and followed the young man downstairs.

“We’re off Mrs Hudson”, he shouted in the hallway and a minute later they both sat in a cab. 

“So what are you doing exactly?”, John wanted to know after a while of silence.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean for a living. You’re not a scientist, yet you’re in the lab at Barts. You’re not a doctor. You’re getting information and invited to a crime scene by the police. What do you do?”

“I’m a consulting detective. Only one in the world”, Sherlock said.

“And what does a consulting detective do exactly?”

“If the police is in need of help or advice – which is nearly always the case – they consult me. So can private people.”

“I found your website last night. Looked you up on the internet”, John confessed.

“And?”

“The Science of Deduction”, John quoted and looked askingly at the younger man who seemed offended. “It’s impossible.”

“Deducing people?” John nodded. “Yet I did it with you.”

“Mike must have talked to you about me.”

“You don’t believe me, do you?”

“It’s hard to believe”, John confessed. 

“I know that you’ve been an Army Doctor home from Afghanistan. You’ve been struggling to pay the rent yet you don’t ask anyone for help. Not even your brother. You two don’t get along, probably because of his drinking, maybe because you liked his wife. Your limp and shaking of the hand is psychosomatic, according to your therapist and I have to agree. Did I get anything wrong?”

John’s mouth fell open? How did he know all those things?

“That was... Wow... How do you know all this?”

Sherlock smiled and explained him how he had figured all this out with his mobile phone and John truly was impressed. Sherlock was quite pleased with John’s reaction. A while later they arrived at the crime scene and everything went on rather quickly. John got inside with Sherlock, ignoring the snarling comments on some of the staff and followed Sherlock upstairs where the dead body of a young woman was. He helped the young man, although he couldn’t understand why Sherlock would need his help. He was brilliant and deduced everything that was to know within seconds. But then he suddenly ran off and left him. No one really took notice of him and he had no idea where he was exactly. God damn! He asked the young woman that had talked to Sherlock and had called him a freak earlier and asked her where he could get a cab home.

“Try the main road”, she said and looked at him curiously. “Who even are you? Not a friend. Sherlock Holmes doesn’t have friends.”

“I’m no one”, he mumbled.

“Stay away from him”, she then advised when he already had turned to head to the main road. 

“Why?”

“Because he’s a psychopath. He’s no good.”

He didn’t like her. Why was she this mean to the young man? John ignored her and left for the main road. He was cold, tired and his wound hurt him. Limping he made his was back but couldn’t get hold of a cab. Then suddenly a black car pulled up, two men stepped out and shoved him in. 

“Hey! Let go of me!”, he shouted and tried to get free but it was no use. 

They blindfolded him and the car drove off. Half an hour later he was guided outside and his blindfold was lifted. In front of him stood a tall man with red hair, an umbrella he leaned on and a grey and perfectly fitting suit.

“Good evening Doctor Watson”, he said and gestured to a chair behind John. “Please have a seat. Your leg must be hurting you.”

John didn’t think of it and just stood here, quickly looking around. The two men stood by the car that had parked a bit away, watching silently. He was on high alert yet something told him, that the man opposite him wasn’t a threat.

“Who are you?”, he wanted to know calmly and looked at the man.

“Well, my name is not  relevant . I’m just a concerned party.”

“Concerned about?”

“Sherlock.”

“And why’s that?”, John asked.

“Well, you stepped into his life.”

John was shocked. What had all this to do with him? The other one saw the confusion in his face and continued with an explanation.

“I know who you are Doctor Watson. What had happened the last months and during your time at the army. You’ve a bad reputation so to say. You’re a brilliant doctor but your private life... Well, to put it mildly, it’s a mess. And I’m concerned about Sherlock’s well-being with you by his side. You met yesterday. Moved in with him today. Will we be getting a happy announcement by the end of the week?” John stayed silent. “I want you to stay away from Sherlock Holmes. You’re no good for him.”

“I might be wrong, but all this is none of your business”, John grumbled angrily. 

“Oh, it is Doctor. And let me make it clear. If you don’t stay away from him, it will have consequences.”

How dare he get involved in things that didn’t even concern him? How dare he threaten him?!

“To get this right. I won’t be threatened by you”, John said calmly but direct.

“The bravery of the soldier”, the other one laughed. “But isn’t bravery just a much nicer word for stupidity? Don’t be stupid Doctor Watson. I will give you a lot of money for this.”

“I don’t want your money. I just want to live in peace and make my own decisions. So if you’ll excuse me...”

John turned around and wanted to leave but the next words of the man made him stop again.

“Trust issues, your file says. Doctor Thompson has a lot of things to say about your health. I wonder if you’re stable enough at all or if it wouldn’t be better to get you into a clinic.”

John suddenly snapped, heading straight to the other man who stepped a bit back when he saw his anger. Then John stopped, knowing that this wouldn’t help.

“Leave me alone! Are we clear?”

“Stay away from Sherlock Holme s”, t he man said when he walked away.

Angry  John got out of the building and was in the middle of nowhere. Where the fuck was he? John closed the collar of his jacket and started walking, hoping to find some street or cab or bus soon. His phone buzzed in his pocket and he took it out. A text from an unknown number.

_ Come to Baker Street if convenient. - SH _

John laughed and continued walking when a second text came only a few minutes later.

_ If inconvenient come anyway. Could be dangerous. -SH _

John thought about it. Did he really wanted to get this involved in the investigation? He did, he realised after a while of walking before he ended up at a bus stop where there would be a line arriving in a few minutes.  He got on the bus a few minutes later and headed back home.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy 11th Johnlock Anniversary! :)

Something told him it would be best to bring his gun if things did go wrong. He felt safer with it. The familiar weight in his hand when he shoved it in the waistband of his trousers calmed him down. He pulled his jacket and pullover over it and then made his way back to Baker Street. The thrill and excitement of the upcoming case, the unknown dangers and feeling of being needed again, made him happy for the first time in ages. He rang the doorbell and after Mrs Hudson left him in, he made his way upstairs to the flat he would soon share with the young man. Sherlock lay on the sofa, three nicotine patches on his left arm, eyes closed. John looked at him closer for a moment. Wow. He was beautiful, it shot through his head, yet he shoved the thought away once more, stepping inside.

“You texted me”, he said calmly and stood by the couch. 

“Yes. I need you to send a text.”

“You called me here for sending a text?”, John said surprised and a bit annoyed.

Was he serious? 

“Yes, I did John. Now type!”, he ordered. “What happened at Lauriston Gardens? I must’ve blacked out. 22 Northumberland Street. Please come.”

Then he dictated him the number and John send it, asking himself what all this was about. Sherlock hurriedly got up and grabbed a pink suitcase from the kitchen.

“It’s... It’s t he case”, John said surprised. 

“Obviously”, Sherlock said simply, opening it. “Look.”

“Look what?”, John said confused while sitting in the armchair opposite.

“Her phone! It’s not in the case, it was not on the body so it must be...”

“Maybe she lost it”, John suggested.

“I doubt it. She was clever John. She knew she was going to die so she must have planted it on him.”

“So I just texted the murderer?”

“Precisely”, Sherlock said grinning and excited. “And he’ll probably panic”, he said when John’s phone rang a moment later.

“ So what do we do now?”

“Go to  Northumberland Street.”

Sherlock grabbed his coat and the two of them left and walked the few minutes to a nice Italian restaurant. Angelo’s. The owner greeted them exuberantly and offered them the best table of the house. It was right by the window and Sherlock sat to look out while John took the place by the window.    
“Everything on the house!”; Angelo announced after he had greeted them. “For you and your date”, he said to Sherlock who smiled a tiny bit. 

“I’m not his date”, John said surprised. 

“I’ll get a candle so it’s more romantic”, Angelo said once more, winked at John and hurried off. 

“Alright...”, John mumbled to himself and looked at the young man. “ So what exactly are we doing here?”

“Wait for our murderer.”

“You’re sure he will show up?”

“Oh, he’s clever, he’s looking for appreciation. He  paniced because of the text.  Of course he will show up.”

John stayed silent and looked at the  menu Angelo had got them. He wasn’t particularly hungry.

“Eat”, Sherlock ordered while looking out the window.

“I’m not hungry”, John declined while Angelo put a small candle on the table. 

“ So we’re moving in together” Sherlock looked confused at him. “Don’t you think that I should know at least a bit about you if we do this.”

“There’s nothing to know about me”, Sherlock said. 

He didn’t want to tell John about his past. It wasn’t important. The only thing that counted was to solve the case and that he had found the blue eyes and apparently the owner of them was as fascinating as the eyes itself. 

“ Well I think there is”, John said and thought about what to ask him first.

“Do you have a girlfriend?”

“Not really my area”, Sherlock said and looked outside of the window again onto the road.

“Oh... Boyfriend then?”

“No”, Sherlock  said, and his eyes looked to John Watson.

“Ok.... Great....”

Was he hitting on  him? Sherlock scrutinized him for a moment before he looked back onto the road again. John blushed a bit and looked away. What had he thought? Asking him about this when they had only met? Stupid!

“And you take cases from the police?” Sherlock nodded, concentrating on the road. “What if they don’t have any? Do you take normal  people's cases as well?”

Sherlock hadn’t thought about it. All this was still a bit  new and he only had gotten cases from Greg so far.  So he stayed silent, ignoring John for the moment. A moment later a cab halted and a man in the back turned and looked to Angelo’s. Was it their suspect? A cab... This was clever but why...

“A cab stopped. Man in the back is looking at us”, he said to John.

John turned to the window to look at what Sherlock had seen.

“Don’t stare”, the younger one said.

“You’re staring”, John said surprised.

“We can’t both stare”, Sherlock said, grabbed his coat and was out by the door.

Without hesitation John grabbed his coat as well and followed the young man.

“What are we doing now?”, he wanted to know when he stood by the younger man’s side.

The cab drove off and Sherlock started to run. John followed, over rooftops, through houses, alleyways and through the heart of London. The familiar rush of adrenaline pumped through John’s veins and for the first time in ages he felt normal and like himself. Their thrilling chase was over too soon, for John’s liking, and had a disappointed ending. The man in the back of the car was a simple tourist from LA – as Sherlock figured out brilliantly. 

“So just a tourist, not the murderer”, John said heavily breathing from their run.

“No...”, Sherlock answered disappointed. 

“What was that? Police?”, John asked and grabbed Sherlock’s hand to look at the item he was holding.

The younger man’s heart stopped for a moment when their fingers touched. 

“Di Lestrade”, John read. “Where did you get that?”

“I pickpocket him when he’s annoying. Keep it. I got loads at the flat.”

John looked at the badge once more, then at Sherlock and started laughing. For the first time in month, he laughed about how silly all this was. What they had just done and about Sherlock being childish and stealing from a police officer. They made their way back to Baker Street where both hung up their coats in the hallway and leaned against the wall, a bit out of breath.

“That was  ridiculous . The most ridiculous thing I’ve ever done”, John mumbled.

“You invaded Afghanistan”, Sherlock said and both laughed once more.

“Why aren’t we back at the restaurant?”, John asked then.

“Oh... They can keep an eye out. It was a long shot anyway...”

John smiled. Sherlock did as well and looked at the doctor in his crème-coloured jumper and the dark circles under his eyes. The pullover was too big since he was this thin. Yet he was still muscular and fit.

“What are we doing now?”

“Proving a point”, Sherlock grinned. “Mrs  Hudson !”, he then shouted. “Doctor Watson will take the bedroom upstairs!”

“Says who?”

“Says the man at the door”, Sherlock grinned when it knocked. “Open it.”

John obeyed and in front of it stood Angelo with his cane. Apparently, he had forgotten all about it and his limp had magically disappeared. Only psychosomatic, John thought and smiled while he thanked the older man and headed back inside where a nervous Mrs Hudson stepped to them. She fumbled with a handkerchief and mumbled something to Sherlock. The younger one immediately headed upstairs, and John followed once more where no other than DI Lestrade sat in the black leather armchair and a bunch of police forensics searched through the boxes and the flat.

“What are you doing here?”, he asked the DI annoyed and a bit angry.

“I knew you’d found the case. I know you never call when you have a lead”, the DI said.

John looked interested at him. The DI had silver hair, wore a white shirt, dark suit and expensive looking light brown leather shoes and a matching belt. He looked smug and intelligent at Sherlock who was slightly nervous.

“And what is this?”, he asked and gestured towards the other men.

“A drugs bust!”

John laughed and the two men looked at him.

“Seriously? He’s a junkie? Have you met him? That’s completely ridiculous!”

Sherlock stepped closer, looking at him intensely.

“John, better shut up now...”

“But Sherlock this is...”

He looked at him once more and John shut up. Surprised look in his eyes, scrutinizing him. Sherlock was pale. So John had found out sooner than he had liked.

“No... You?”

“Shut up”, Sherlock grumbled and then turned to Lestrade who smiled a bit.

“This is ridiculous! Why are you doing this?”

“If you’re helping us and stick to the rules. I’m letting this go Sherlock.”   
“This is childish!”

“ Well I am dealing with a child”, Lestrade said and stood up while Sherlock walked up and down. “I told you, I’ll let you in and help if you stick to the rules Sherlock. No going off on your own!”

“And that’s why you are doing all this? I am clean!”, he shouted angry now and lost his temper.

John was surprised to see him like this. The cold façade he had seen the last hours was lost and he truly saw the first emotions of the young man. Unhidden by arrogance or brilliance. 

“I know. So let’s work together instead against each other. We found Rachel.

“Who is she?”, Sherlock asked after a moment, shoving everything but the case away. 

“Jennifer Wilson’s daughter.”

“But... Why would she write her daughter's name? Where is she? We need to question her!”

“She’s dead. Well, she never truly was alive. She’s Mrs Wilson’s stillborn daughter. 14 years ago.”

“But why would she write her death  daughter's name? That doesn’t make sense”, Sherlock  said and they all looked at him. 

“Sure, why not think of her daughter when she was dying”, Anderson from forensics mumbled in the background.

“ Well she did not only think of her!”,  Sherlock shouted. “She scratched her name into the floor. It hurt. It took effort. It was more than thinking of her!”

“Well maybe the killer talked to  her. You said he makes them take the poison? Maybe he did it by talking about her daughter in some way?”, John suggested after a moment of silence and to calm the situation. 

“ Yes but why would she still be upset!? I mean if you’re dying and you only had a few more moments, what would you do? What message would you leave?”

He looked at John. Waiting for an answer. 

“Please God, let me live”, John mumbled.

“Use your imagination John!”

“I don’t have to”, John said and Sherlock immediately felt sorry for what he had said. 

They both looked at each other for a moment. Blue eyes looking into dark green ones. Sherlock could see the hurt in John’s eyes. John the sadness and apology in Sherlock’s. The DI interested looked at them. Who was the older man Sherlock had taken to the crime scene? What was he doing here? What was this between the two of them, the DI asked himself.

“But she was clever. She had all those lovers. She planted her phone on the murdered. She would not simply think of something like that!” Then it suddenly hit him. “Oh...”

“What?”, Lestrade asked.

“It isn’t only a name! John, the case! There’s a luggage and an e-mail  address .”

Sherlock grabbed a laptop from nearby and after John had raid the mail address, he typed something in while explaining.

“She had a smartphone. We can track the phone and since it’s in the hands of our murderer, we can track it.”

“So we can track the murderer”, Lestrade said.

“Exactly”, Sherlock grinned.

That moment Mrs Hudson got upstairs.

“Sherlock, the cab you ordered is here.”

“I didn’t order a taxi”, he mumbled and concentrated on the location of the phone.

The next few minutes where like a blur to John. Everything went so quick and was quite hectic when they found out that the phone was in 221B. He simply watched them and waited. Then suddenly, out of the blue, Sherlock headed downstairs.

“Sherlock? Where are you going?”, John asked surprised.

“Just getting some fresh air”, he mumbled in his thoughts and John let him.

Still, it was weird. A moment ago, the Detective had been buzzing around the room, solving a case and now he left. John watched him talking to a cabbie outside and then the young man got into the cab and left. What the hell?

“Sherlock just got into that cab!”, he said surprised to the DI.

“Yeah, he’s often just leaving”, Seargent Donovan said annoyed.

“Alright guys”, Lestrade then ordered. “Let’s pack up and get home. It’s been a long day.”

“Why would he just leave?”, John asked the Di who scrutinized him for a moment.

“I don’t kow. He’s unpredictable quite often.”

“But you know him.”

“I don’t really know him. I met him five years ago and we met now and then but really knowing him... I think no one does.” John looked on his feet for a moment. “What about you? How do you know Sherlock?”, Lestrade wanted to know.

“Oh we.... We just met really.”

Lestrade once more scrutinized him before he and his men left, and John was alone in the unfamiliar surroundings, he now would call home. A while later when John started looking around and shoving boxes from one side to the other, the laptop pulled back his attention with a loud ping followed by a steady beeping. When John looked at it, he realised that the phone had moved from Baker Street to a College. He scribbled down the address and hurried down the stairs, grabbing his coat and started to walk in the direction until he found a cab he took and drove off. 

Sherlock took the pill out of the small vile. Looked at it. Scrutinizing it. He was unsure if it was the right one but now there was no going back. His hand started shaking a bit and the cabbie talked and talked but he didn’t listen. He slowly put it to his lips when a shot pierced the silence. The cabbie screamed and fell on the floor, blood pooling at his left shoulder. Immediately he was by the window where the shot had come from and looked outside, but he could see no one. Nothing suspicious. Before the man could die, he managed to  ge the name he had wanted. A name that meant nothing to him and yet he was sue he would find out who had organised this. He stepped out of the college and already heard police cars. A moment later Lestrade was by his side and an  ambulance pulled up beside the police cars . 

“What happened? We got a call by the cleaning staff about a shot.”

In a few sentences Sherlock told the DI everything he needed to know for this case while he sat in the back of the ambulance and people kept putting a blanket on him.

“Any sign of the shooter?”, Sherlock asked.

“None. There’s no lead.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that”, Sherlock said. “I mean you’re looking for someone with experience. No stranger to violence, steady hands. Probably ex-army with nerves of steel....”

Immediately Sherlock stopped when he saw John Watson by a police car outside the flattering police tape. This can’t be, he thought stunned.

“Sherlock?”, Lestrade asked when he had stopped.

“Forget it. I.... I’m in shock”, he lied and stood up.

“Sherlock, where are you going?”

“I... Need to discuss something about the rent”, he mumbled.

“But I got questions. You got to come in tomorrow.”

Sherlock nodded, tossed the blanket in a nearby police car and stepped to John.

“Are you okay?”, the Doctor asked. “Seargent Donovan explained everything. Two pills. The cabbie got shot... Dreadful business.”

Sherlock scrutinized him.

“Good shot”, he mumbled.

“Yeah, must have been”, John lied, trying not to let Sherlock see the truth.

“You must know it.” Sherlock smiled a bit. “Are you okay?”

“Yes sure. Why wouldn’t I?”

“You just killed a man.”

John sighed, knowing that lying further wouldn’t help him. Sherlock knew.

“But he wasn’t a very nice man”, John grumbled.

“No.  Awful cabbie.”

John laughed.

“Stop it! We can’t giggle. It’s a crime scene!”

Sherlock laughed as well and looked at John. He was grateful for what John had done to him. That he had saved his life.

“You would have taken it, would you?”

“Nah... Just stalling. Knew you’d show up”, Sherlock lied easily.

“Bullshit”, John said. “You would. You wanted to prove that you know the answer, even though you didn’t.”

“Why would I do that?”

“You’re an idiot”, John said and Sherlock laughed a bit.

“Dinner?”, he asked, fully aware that John hadn’t eaten earlier and properly during the last time, according to his condition. 

“Staving”, John said and he truly felt hungry for the first time in weeks.

“I know a good Chinese restaurant at the end of Baker Street that closes at two.”

“Sounds good.”

They smiled at each other and John felt that this was the right thing. But a moment later John was startled by a familiar face, stepping out of a black Jaguar and stepping closer.

“What’s wrong?”, Sherlock asked because he could feel the change in John’s mood.

“I... I saw him before.... He.... He threatened me.”

“He what?”

“Good evening”, the man  greeted, and they stopped. 

John angrily looked at him. Sherlock wasn’t happy either, he deduced when  John looked at him. 

“What do you want?”, he grumbled at the other man.

“Still angry. I came to see how you were. I heard about the shooting.”

“What do you care? I told you to stay away from me!”

Who the hell was this guy, John thought once more and watched the two man carefully.

“But I’m worried Sherlock”, the elder one confessed.

“Leave me alone!”

Sherlock turned and left. John followed him. Staying silent while they walked down the street. Who was this man? Why had he threatened him and why was Sherlock so angry at him?Both stayed silent until they reached Baker Street.

“I... I should go home. It’s been a long day”, John said awkwardly. 

“But I thought that this is your home now too?”, Sherlock said into the silence between them. “You could stay here if you want. After dinner.”

“Not tonight. I need to get my stuff and we still need to discuss the rent”, he tried to joke slightly. 

“What about dinner?”, Sherlock asked once more.

“Sure! You promised me you’ll predict my fortune cookie after all and I’m curious if you can.”

Sherlock was relieved somehow that he would be able to spend some more time with John. With the man who had saved his life just merely hours after they met. It was crazy but he was grateful for it. Silently they headed down Baker Street and arrived half an hour later at the Chinese restaurant Sherlock had mentioned earlier. They took one of the two tables and ordered. Since they were the only guests, dinner was ready soon and John dug in. Sherlock smiled when he realised how hungry John had must been. John had a beer with his dinner. 

“How do you know the guy we saw at the crime scene earlier? The posh one in the suit?”

Sherlock grinned at the description.

“Let’s just say, he’s not important. I don’t want to have anything to do with him anymore.”

John let it be and finished his food eagerly. 

“ So you did take drugs then?”, John asked out of the blue.

“I did”, Sherlock admitted, feeling that honesty would probably work best here. “But I’m clean.”

“That’s good.”

“Well... Probably”, Sherlock said fumbling with a fortune cookie.

John felt that Sherlock was nervous but couldn’t figure out why. Instead he sipped from his beer, took a cookie and opened it.

“So tell me my fortune”, John said and smiled at the text on the small paper.

_ A great time is ahead of you. _

Sherlock looked at him. He had no idea.

“I have no clue”, he confessed and they both laughed.

They opened cookies and laughed like boys over the predictions they unpacked. It was a brilliant evening and John truly enjoyed himself. They got tossed out of the restaurant at 2am and headed to Baker Street.

“You sure you don’t want to stay?”, Sherlock asked.

“I’ll be back in the morning”, he said. “Goodnight Sherlock.”

With this the Doctor turned up the collar of his jacket and left the young man on the sidewalk in front of their new shared home. Smiling and feeling better for the first time in weeks he got back to his small  apartment and saw a face he didn’t expect. 


	14. Chapter 14

It was late that night when Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade sat in his office and had finished the file of the suicide cases. He was exhausted and still thinking about what had happened tonight. What Sherlock had said about the shooter. Usually, he never retreated from a deduction so Lestrade had done some digging himself and had done some research on the guy that had been there at the flat. Doctor John Watson. He was ex-army, like Sherlock had said. Fully trained soldier and his file showed, that his service weapon had mysteriously disappeared after his discharge. The same calibre like the bullet they had found in the cabbie's body. So his suspicions had been right after all. But what would he do? Charge the doctor or just let it be? He shoved the file of the doctor in his desk, locked the drawer and grabbed his coat. He was too tired to make this decision. Lestrade made his way home to his small appartement he occupied since his divorce with his wife. He sank in the old battered armchair and opened a bottle of beer. Another long day he would end with being alone, drinking...

“What are you doing here?”, John asked surprised and smiled a bit at the other man in front of him. 

“Evening John”, James said and looked at the doctor. “You look better. Your limping stopped.”

“It has”, he confirmed unnecessarily. “Want to come up?”

John had no idea why – after everything – he invited James upstairs. The adrenaline from tonight’s events still circulated in his blood and he still felt the familiar high. And he knew from experience that this was a deadly combination for making mistakes.

“Sure. Thank you.”

James was surprised as well that the doctor had invited him upstairs but he didn’t want to discuss this on the road. John guided him upstairs and closed the door behind them before he headed to the small kitchen and offered James a drink.

“So what brings you here?”, John asked, leaning against the counter while he sipped on his drink.

“I came to apologise. An apology for talking to our superiors. I had hoped I would help you with it. I had hoped that things would get better. I know it was wrong and I’m deeply sorry for doing this to you.”

John stayed silent and just looked at him. He came to apologise? He truly hadn’t expected that.

“There’s more though”, John said without accepting his apology in the slightest.

“I... I want to tell you, that I want to try again. Get another surgery. Maybe it’ll help me.”

“Are you sure this is wise?”

“I thought a lot about it and yes, I think it’s worth a try.”

“I’m not so sure”, John said a bit concerned. “I was worried that you could never use your arm when I operated. I think this will be the case if you have another surgery.”

“So you would advise against it?”

“I would. I’m sorry James.”

“No, it’s fine. I wanted your honest opinion on this.”

“The other reason you came here”, John grumbled. 

So more than a simple apology.

“Indeed. But now that I am here, I truly want to talk. I guess there’s a lot we need to fix.”

“You could say that....”, John’s mood darkened with every moment. 

“As I said, I’m truly sorry for behaving like an idiot. I miss you John and I want to try again, if you are still up for this?”

John had wanted it. He would have said yes before but after his first no, he had hoped that James had accepted it. Instead, he was back, asking him to talk and to continue. 

“No. I told you before. It’s over.”

“But John... I.... I truly miss you.”

“I miss you too and it still hurts.” John’s confession irritated James. “I still don’t want to continue what we had. I loved you and I guess I still do, but I can’t see a future anymore. Not after everything.”

“But what about you, loving me? Is all this so wrong then?”

“I don’t know.”

James had stepped closer and had rested his good hand on John’s cheek. Looking into his blue eyes. Waiting. Scrutinizing. John got weak. He could feel his shield he had so carefully put up, melt away under the soft and familiar touch. Then their lips met and it was as if nothing had changed. John moaned and pulled James closer, deepening the kiss, shoving James’ coat off his broad shoulders before he got shoved against the nearby wall.

Sherlock was exhausted. Quietly he made his way upstairs to not wake Mrs Hudson. The day had been completely different than from what he had imagined. Yet he had been happy how it had turned out. The only thing that bothered him was the fact that John Watson hadn’t stayed for the night. But the thought that the doctor would return tomorrow, soothed his mind. Tired he got to his bedroom after hanging his coat on the rack by the door in the living room. He quickly undressed and sank naked into the cold silk sheets of his bed. Way too big for a single person, he realised and thought about John once more. He had flirted with him and it was irritating. But then it probably just was his imagination. It probably hadn’t been more than a simple question from his roommate-to-be. And he had saved his life, after only knowing him for24h. After a few minutes his exhausted mind gave up in analysing everything he had learned about John Watson tonight and simply stored it in his mind palace. After that he sank into a deep sleep, dreaming about the ex-soldier with the blue eyes. 

Early the next morning John called and cancelled his rental contract for the small appartement. The landlord agreed and already had some candidates for the flat so John could move out immediately. He packed his few clothes and stuff and headed to Baker Street late that day. He rang the bell to 221B and the old lady – Mrs Hudson – let him in, happy to see him again.

“So glad you’re back Doctor Watson”, she said. “Sherlock is upstairs.”

“Thank  you, Mrs Hudson .”

He took the small box with his belongings and his sea-sack and headed upstairs where he found Sherlock in a dressing gown and his PJs, laying on the sofa, eyes closed. Wow... John startled. His  roommate looked gorgeous. 

“Done staring?”, the detective’s dark voice rumble through the silence of the room and John nearly dropped the box.

“Sorry...”, John mumbled and put his bag and box on the floor while Sherlock scrutinized him carefully. “I hope it’s okay I’m here.”

“Sure. This is your home now, John”, Sherlock said as if it was obvious.

“I’ll head upstairs then and get everything away”, John mumbled and did so.

The room he occupied was quite big with a comfortable bed, a dresser and an old chair. He put his few belongings into the dresser and the box beside it. He headed downstairs again where Sherlock was now in the black leather armchair, eyes closed, hands folded in front of his lips. John sat quietly in the armchair opposite him and waited.

“ So. ..”, Sherlock said into the silence, unexpected and startled John’s thoughts about last night and James. “You must be hungry. Lunch?”

“Alright”, John said. 

Sherlock got up and returned a few minutes later, dressed into some jeans, shirt and his coat. They headed out to a small restaurant a few streets away and had a lovely lunch. They talked about the flat and Mrs Hudson. About Sherlock’s brilliant deductions, and John  was even more fascinated by Sherlock at the end of the day. It was late when they returned to Baker Street after a stroll through London and John was exhausted so he went to bed early.

Late that night, Sherlock couldn’t sleep, he heard a scream from upstairs. Immediately he was up and turned on the bedside lamp. There it was again. Another scream and shout. What was going on? Worried about John, Sherlock headed upstairs and looked into the room of the doctor. 

“John?”, he mumbled quietly and looked around.

The moonlight illuminated enough that he could see the room fully. There was nothing weird going on. Only John in his bed. Alone. Then another shout and scream and he only now realised that it was John having a nightmare. Shit... He could see the ex-soldier tossing and turning, grabbing the sheets and drenched in sweat. Without thinking he stepped to him and tried to wake him. Which turned out to be a mistake. As soon as he had touched John by the shoulder, he shouted once more and his strong arms shoved him away. The doctor's hands where on his throat and they both where on the floor. Sherlock struggled and tried to get free but without results. John’s grip tightened and he could barely breath. He said his name but soon all air was gone. Sherlock shoved against him. His hands hitting John’s arms and his face but it wouldn’t do any good. He got weaker with every movement. He pulled up his knee and kicked John in the balls. John howled in pain and let go immediately. Rolling down from the detective who coughed heavily and filled his lungs with desperately needed air. John looked to him, shoving the pain away after a moment and only now realised what had happened. Sherlock lay on the floor beside him, coughing and gasping for air. Fuck!

“John?”, he asked in a raspy voice and looked to the doctor who was shocked.

“Sherlock! Oh my god! I... I’m so  so sorry! I... I had no control! Are you alright? Do you need an ambulance?”

“No... ‘m fine”, he coughed once more. 

John sat beside him on the floor, holding his head in his hand.

“Fuck... Fuck... Fuck”, he mumbled over and over. “I’m so sorry. I had no control. I... I had no control.”

“It’s fine John”, he tried to calm the ex-soldier and rubbed his hurting throat while sitting up as well. “I’m sorry I just got in here. I heard you scream and was worried”, he confessed.

“I. .. Let me check on you”, he then said, shoving everything away and being in full doctor mode now.

“I told you, I’m fine”, Sherlock protested after John had turned on the light.

“Please... I.... I want to see.”

John kneed beside him and looked at him. A haunted and worried look on the elder man’s face. Sherlock nodded and let him. Carefully John tilted his chin and looked at his throat. He could clearly see the traces of his hard grip. Shit! 

“Are you getting enough air? Does it hurt much while breathing? No dizzy feeling?”

“John, calm down! I’m fine. Really.”

John let out the breath he had held and tried to calm his shaking hands. He had just attacked his new roommate mid-sleep! Sherlock sat on the floor opposite him and his eyes scrutinized him carefully. 

“What did you dream about?”, he asked carefully.

“I don’t want to talk about it”, John confessed and stood up. “I’m sorry Sherlock. I truly am.”

John quickly dressed into his jeans and a pullover, took his jacket and vanished before Sherlock could hold him back. He had to get out. Had to get his head free. 


End file.
